


Serenity

by spideypeach



Series: The Siren [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mermaid, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, F/M, Merpeople, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Soulmates, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 39,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideypeach/pseuds/spideypeach
Summary: When merchant ships start mysteriously going missing, Tony Stark enlists the help of Peter Parker to discover what could possibly be causing them to vanish from thin air. Unbeknownst to them, some mysteries go deeper than the sea itself.The beautiful siren that seems to be calling his name might have more to her than just a mesmerizing face.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter Parker was not engaged in his modern politics class.

School was miles away. The only thing he was engaged in was the phone that had vibrated in his pocket at the beginning of seventh period. He would have gotten it confiscated if he hadn’t suavely talked his way out of the predicament. Now, the phone was burning a hole in his pocket, and his leg was bouncing out of control. Happy Hogan’s name appearing on his screen was a rare occurrence, and it sucked that it had popped up almost milliseconds before the bell rang. He stole a glance at the clock for the millionth time that afternoon and realigned his focus for the last ten minutes.

“Okay,” his teacher, Mr. Ellis, looked through his lesson plan, “We have ten minutes left, let’s briefly touch on the missing merchant ships.”

The class erupted into excitement, every student turning to each other to dive into the various theories they had heard, and some that they had come up with themselves. It was a topic of particular interest and had been dominating the news. Peter had a decent feeling the notification had something to do with it as well; this type of mystery was like candy for Mr. Stark.

“Okay! Okay!” Mr. Ellis sighed, trying to settle down his class, “Yes. It’s insane. It’s crazy. We’re not here to talk about aliens, or the Bermuda triangle, this is a politics class and I want you to tell me how this affects international relations.”

Peter wanted to zone out again, even though he knew the answer. He looked over to Ned, who was sitting across the room and rolled his eyes. The Friday blues were hanging over their heads, the weekend just a hop away.

“Attacks on trade ships have started world wars,” MJ said, she was sitting next to Ned. If there weren’t assigned seats, they would all be sitting together. In usual MJ fashion, she hadn’t not bothered to raise her hand. She shrugged at Peter and returned to her sketch.

Mr. Ellis affirmed this, “Correct. The mysterious disappearance has already caused tension. Since there is no viable evidence that this is an attack, not a whole lot can be done, and next week we’ll dive further into the problem trade relationships can cause. Have a good weekend.”

Before Mr. Ellis had finished his sentence Peter was out of his seat, packing up his notebook and laptop to leave school. He bounded out, racing towards the door in a childlike glee and whipped out his phone from his back pocket. Sure enough, there was a text from Happy waiting for him, along with a sleek black car in the front of the school. Happy Hogan leaned against it, looking unamused. He adjusted his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose and opened the door. 

“You got my text, Mr. Parker?”

Peter skimmed it, Boss needs your help with an important project. Might have to stay overnight. Will pick you up from school. He nodded.

“Have you let your aunt know?”

“Will do!” he shot him an enthusiastic set of finger guns and fell into the backseat, shooting May a text to let him know what his weekend might hold.

Happy wasn’t much of a talker, and it was hard for Peter to shut up when he was bursting with excitement. He kept his mouth shut, anyways, not wanting to say anything stupid. This was the first time he had heard the phrase “important project” in all the time he had been working with Mr. Stark, and the potential was endless. It had been a painfully long month since anything interesting had happened, and even then, interesting was an understatement. Taking down Mr. Toomes, who Peter had now nicknamed The Vulture, was terrifying, but in the best way possible. He finally felt like he was doing something right. Petty theft and muggings could only fuel his need to help for so long. The responsibility he carried with his abilities seemed to grow with every day that was put in between the last time he had spoken with Mr. Stark. The fact that he had enlisted his help, he couldn’t help but be thrilled.

His phone buzzed again, a text from Aunt May.

Okay, Peter, next time maybe call and ask? I know that you haven’t been putting yourself in too much danger, but the Spider-Man thing still worries me.

He sighed. The care that he felt for Aunt May was unparalleled, which was precisely why he had no intention for her finding out. She obviously had been struck with quite a shock, walking in on him wearing his suit, but with further explanation, it had all made sense. She wasn’t dense; she knew he had been sneaking out. After probably the longest conversation of his life, she finally gave in to business as usual, as long as he kept open communication with her.

He twiddled his thumbs until the Avengers Complex came into sight. The place felt like Disneyland to Peter, and it took everything in him not to jump from the car and take off running.

Mr. Stark, dressed in his usual formal attire, met them outside. His expression was unidentifiable thanks to the sunglasses that shaded his eyes, and he didn’t speak a word as he led Peter inside. His confident gait remained unaffected by Peter’s eager nature.

“Mr. Parker, how have things been? Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man keeping you busy?”

“Yes sir, I-“

“And your aunt? I heard she found out?”

“She did Mr. Stark but-“

“And school? I can only do so much to get you into MIT.”

“School’s all right and wow I really appreciate that Mr. Stark but-“

“You got a girlfriend yet? Boyfriend? I don’t know your preferences I guess but-“

“Mr. Stark!” Peter finally cut him off, frustration and curiosity getting the better of him. Sometimes his mentor’s wittiness was humorous, but when it was knowingly teasing, he didn’t want to beat around the bush. Mr. Stark raised his eyebrows and took off his shades, stopping the steady pace they had been keeping

“Peter. Suit up. I’m assuming you brought the suit. Happy will take you to my lab where I can explain everything. Kapeesh?”

Peter nodded, nervously fidgeting with the straps on his backpack. He watched Mr. Stark confidently put on his sunglasses and walk away, unsure of how to feel. In front of him, Happy gestured him towards the restroom.

Being able to take his time changing into his suit was a new feeling. Normally he would be hidden in an alleyway, doing all he could to remain unidentifiable, but now he stared at his reflection in the mirror, unfazed. He paused before taking pulling the mask over his head, examining the expression in his chocolate eyes. There was a bit of fear in them, but like every Spider-Man duty, he brushed it away and pulled the mask on, his suit coming to life.

Good afternoon, Peter. How was your Friday?

“Good, Karen. Good,” Peter exhaled, unaware that he had been holding his breath.

Glad to hear it.

Feeling somewhat clownlike standing next to Happy, he followed a maze of hallways and a few flights of stairs to their final destination. A few times, Happy had to scan his hand to get through, which Peter found incredibly impressive. One day he hoped to be at that level of trust with Mr. Stark.

The lab was not of the tradition he was used to, but it was a prime example of who Mr. Stark was as a person. Music boomed and reverberated off the walls, various AI’s and robots assisting their creator at every command. Happy stood at the door as Peter, eyes wide as saucers, gawked at his surroundings.

“Like it? It’s gone through phases. Variations. Had to move it a couple times. Especially when my house practically burned down,” he searched for Peter’s eyes through the mask. “Mind taking that off for a moment?”

Peter scrambled to remove it, “Oh! Yeah of course. Sorry.”

He added a nervous laugh for good measure.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. pull up my research on the missing boats.”

Right away.

Holographic images, articles, and videos all materialized directly in front of Peter’s eyes. They layered and piled on one another, and if these had been physical documents, it would have reached the ceiling. The devastating mystery continued. 64 lives had been lost, no one knows if they were stranded or dead. It had been months since these ships had been heard from, and no one knew where they were going. No bodies, no remains, no rubble, nothing gave any sort of lead to where or why they were vanishing. The only information they really had was-

“After the United States made a slight variation in the route they were taking, ships went missing left and right, luckily, they were smart enough to figure that minuscule clue out. Thoughts?” Mr. Stark looked at Peter quizzically.

“I-uh-well-“ Peter started to fumble over his words, but regained his composure to add on his ideas, “They have sent rescue boats through that route though, correct? The video and audio footage from the last five minutes before vanishing show silence. Complete silence. There’s no viable explanation yet.”

“Yet,” Mr. Stark looked at Happy with a mischievous smirk. “That is precisely why I have brought you here Mr. Parker. You have a scientific mind. Reminds me of me. Don’t you think, Happy? Don’t answer that.”

“Okay, Mr. Stark but I don’t really see what me suiting up has anything to do with-“

“Let me finish, Pete. Can I call you Pete?”

“I guess so.”

“You’re suited up because we are headed to an area in the Atlantic Ocean that I suspect is where these ships are going missing.

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, concerned, “Isn’t that sort of…dangerous?”

“Not if we take a plane. I have some good ones as well. I’m not guaranteeing we’ll find anything, but it’s worth a shot, and a sample of the water. Maybe a giant octopus. We might be there for a while, sitting. Observing. Science,” Mr. Stark brushed away the holograms and threw a pen behind his ear.

“Science…” Peter couldn’t put a finger on how to respond. The fact that of all the people he could have called (which was probably a lot), he called Peter. It was validation he hadn’t felt since Mr. Stark returned the Spider-Man suit to him. Mr. Stark trusted Peter with a top secret and delicate mission, and that was remarkable.

“You do like science, don’t you?”

Peter snapped out of his shock, “Right! Yes, Mr. Stark, I do. This-this is right up my alley.”

Mr. Stark smirked again, “Good. Follow me to the aircraft. I have everything we could possibly need, so all you have to bring is your person.”

Peter waited while Mr. Stark gathered things, various papers that he shoved into a briefcase. He turned around expecting to find Happy, but all he saw was his back walking away down the long hallway and into the elevator. When he turned back, Mr. Stark was already on his way, Peter needing to jog to catch up with him.

The first time Peter flew on an airplane he was headed to Germany to fight Captain America. The second time Peter flew on an airplane, he wasn’t on the inside of it, he was on the outside. This was the third time Peter had flown on an airplane, and it wasn’t even that. The jet looked like every single Stark Jet he had seen on TV. He never thought he would see one in person, nonetheless ride on one. Stepping on it felt completely out of reality. As they approached the cockpit, Mr. Stark gestured for him to put his mask on, which he did promptly. A pilot and a co-pilot sat in their respective seats, preparing for takeoff.

“Don’t worry, Spider-Man, they know that this is a top-secret mission. They’re sworn to secrecy. Right boys?”

The two women flying the plane looked unamused by Mr. Stark’s obvious sarcasm. They turned to Peter, looking at him nonchalantly.

“Taking a break from protecting Queens, Spidey?” the Pilot’s black hair was pulled into a tight bun. It hardly bothered her that Queens’ crime-fighting hero was in her midst. Not that Peter chalked himself up to that, but generally people had to take a moment and confirm that what they were seeing was actually Spider-Man.

“I-I guess yeah.”

The pilot looked confused, “Why does he sound like he’s 12?”

“I-“

“AND that’s our cue to leave. Thank you, Ms. Tran, your endless services to my company are continuously appreciated,” Mr. Stark took Peter by the shoulders and guided him away from the cockpit and into the main cabin. He sat in a seat, anxiety starting to creep into the back of his throat. He knew that Mr. Stark would never purposefully put him in danger, but he couldn’t help but explore the idea that what was causing the disappearances could cause a jet to go missing as well.

The plane rumbled, shook, and hovered above the ground and into the air. The jet moved faster but was more stable than a standard passenger cabin. The latest in Stark technology would probably make a five-hour trip less than 30 minutes.

“We’ll be there before you know it,” Mr. Stark was reading something on his phone. “I don’t know exactly what we’re looking for, kid, but I have a feeling we’ll know it when we see it. We’re essentially doing a stakeout.”

Observational science had provided plenty of breakthroughs but sounded incredibly boring. As Peter listened to Tony’s plan to watch and record every half hour, he secretly dreaded what was to come, unsure of how this could possibly get interesting. They were going to be there until midnight, when if they didn’t find anything they would return to the complex for the night. It was 4 P.M., and this was about to be the longest six to seven hours of Peter’s life.

They came to a stop, and Mr. Stark moved to the side Peter was sitting on, opening a window that covered the length of the jet. It provided a complete view. He opened the other identical window on the left side.

“Are you willing to sit on top of the jet, kid? I have equipment you can set up there, and an emergency button in case something dangerous happens,” Mr. Stark rolled in a cart. A laptop was mounted on a device designed to stick to the plane, as well as a desktop with notebooks, pens, highlighters, anything he might need to effectively record data.

“Y-yeah I think so.”

“Good. You’ll do good, Parker. Let’s get you set up.”

The pair worked together to set up Peter’s station, lots of crawling and webbing to keep them stable. When Peter was finally comfortable, they exchanged some thumbs up, and Peter set to work. He opened the laptop and started the notes that Mr. Stark had carefully instructed him on how to take.

Hour .5, 4:33PM, water remains still save for the natural oscillation of waves. Fortunately, nothing seems out of the ordinary. Weather is clear, a couple clouds here and there. It would really suck for me if it started raining. That’s beside the point. If there’s any variation I will record, but for now, I will return to watching the sea.

And that was that.

He didn’t have much to do unless something drastically changed, so he rolled up his mask to just above his nose and inhaled, the clean, unpolluted air utterly refreshing. He asked Karen to notify him of any variations of his surroundings, then laid out onto his back, eyes glossily transfixed on the pure blue sky.

“Karen, can you play that song…that one sea shanty…it’s really creepy and stuff.”

Peter, I’m not entirely sure what you’re referring to.

“Oh come on…the first line is like, ‘My heart is kissed by Cupid’ or something like that.”

Now playing Jolly Sailor Bold

“Yeah.”

My heart is pierced by Cupid.

I disdain all glitter and gold.

For nothing can console me,

but my jolly sailor bold.

Peter pictured himself on the sea, a pirate. He had always enjoyed the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, even though he was conflicted by the fact that these men were traditionally violent, raping criminals. Plus, Johnny Depp was now everything that he didn’t want to be. He eliminated pirate from his head and changed the image to a sailor. A white, linen shirt, damp and windswept hair, leaning off the side of a ship as it plowed through the ocean. It was an interesting fiction.

Hour 4. 8:02PM. Over halfway there. The sun is barely starting to set. It’s getting cloudier, and the ocean is just as calm as it was when I first started. A couple of birds have landed on the surface and have floated for a few moments, and nothing seems to be causing them to vanish as mentioned in hour 2.5. Other than that, no changes.

It was getting painfully boring, but Peter persisted. Every so often Mr. Stark would check in on him, they would compare notes and then go back to it. Dinner was at 6, but the pangs of hunger had come out of nowhere an hour ago. Peter shifted to a position onto his stomach, grateful for the fact that he was sticky and would never fall off. His eyes drooped, tempting him to close them and take a nap, but he was almost there, and he knew that Mr. Stark would appreciate his efforts.

His sailor imagery reappeared in his mind, but something about the picture was clearer. It sat behind his eyes like a movie. On the banks of an island, a mermaid brought him, battered from a shipwreck to shore. It wasn’t anything from a Disney movie; scrapes and bruises scattered his body, and his left eye was swollen shut. The mermaid hoisted him onto land, her gentle hand lightly cupping his face. She cried heavy tears, sobs erupting from her chest over and over. 

Peter tried to look closer, knowing that he was certainly not asleep. The harder he looked, the less that the sailor looked like him. Startled, he opened his eyes, wondering why and how his imagination had taken him to that place.

Come all you pretty fair maids

Whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor

That plows the raging sea

He was about to record hour 4.5 when Karen notified him of a change on the surface of the water.

This isn’t like the other ones, Peter. This came from underneath rather than above. I’ll zoom in on it for you.

Karen did so, and Peter squinted under the mask to try and find what she had been referring to. She was right, there was a ripple that was growing and expanding until a figure emerged, and Peter had no idea what to think.

“Peter, are you seeing this?” Mr. Stark said in his ears.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark I am…”

He had planned on saying more, but what he saw in front of his own eyes took over. The figure looked human initially, but the more it revealed itself…herself…he saw that she was unlike anything he had seen before.

When she floated on her back, she confessed her true identity.

“Is that…”

Mr. Stark finished Peter’s thought, “A mermaid. Don’t be so surprised, Spider-Man, a majority of the sea is undiscovered.”

A mermaid. Not too unlike the mermaid he had imagined just moments before.

“But here…now…”

“I know.”

An unfamiliar urge pulsated in Peter’s chest, calling him to investigate, “I’m going to go interact with her.”

“I’ll be watching. Be safe.”

Cautiously, above the misty water, Peter lowered himself down to the figure, suspending himself upside-down. He gave Mr. Stark a glance on his way down, still completely unsure of what could happen. The creature looked like nothing he had ever seen before. Long, blonde hair surrounded her head like a crown, and instead of legs, a flesh-colored tail that resembled every mermaid fairytale he had read as a small child. He hovered a few inches above the water, not wanting to disturb her. If she was sleeping, it had to be soundly, but it was very possible that she just had kept her eyes closed to fool them.

When they fluttered open, it startled Peter who almost lost his grip on the web. He placed another hand on it to stabilize himself, and when he looked back down, she was staring at him in the eyes, her wet hair pushed back out of her face. The eyes he looked into were a piercing silver, a color that no human was naturally born with. Then again, there was no way that this being was human. He lowered himself another inch to get a better look, but she quickly set her hand on his mask-covered forehead.

She shook her head but didn’t speak. In the depths of his mind, he felt a thought inexplicably emerge that wasn’t his own. Do not touch the water unless you seek to be greeted with death.

He could hardly focus as a longing feeling ached in his chest. He wanted to dive into the water with her and never return to the surface, the only thing preventing him from doing so was the hand on his forehead, a plea to follow her simple instructions. Reality felt distant, and he couldn’t determine where he was and what he was doing. Her face convulsed into a grimace, and a tear rolled down her face as she opened her mouth and began to sing. 

The fog that had already began to form thickened, and the question of reality died, transforming into a desire to be with this newfound woman for all of eternity. He had no idea what eternity felt like, but the ethereal angel in front of him did. He felt her peel down his mask, letting his lips brush against the cool, ocean air. Reaching out, he was almost able to make contact with her skin; she was barely out of reach.

It all came to a violent and jarring halt as he was ripped from the haze he had free fell into. 

“Peter, can you hear me now? Pete? Kid?”

“Wha- what yeah. Yeah. I can. What’s going on, Mr. Stark?” he did everything he could to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he sounded like he had just awoken from an all day nap.

“We lost you for a sec,” Mr. Stark sounded frantic, “Quick, web that thing and bring it onto the ship. I’m ready to get out of here.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When merchant ships start mysteriously going missing, Tony Stark enlists the help of Peter Parker to discover what could possibly be causing them to vanish from thin air. Unbeknownst to them, some mysteries go deeper than the sea itself.

_Sister… where are you going?_

_I am going to the surface to retrieve sunlight for my bones._

_Come back soon…_

She had always preferred the surface.

All of her purebred sisters spent their days lounging on the depths of the ocean, remaining out of sight until unsuspecting humans intruded their home. A single finger over the perimeter of their territory and death became their fate. The farther she could get from her sisters in all of their evil glory, the better she felt. Even if the sunlight made her eyes hurt and her skin dry, it was the closest she could get to solace.

Existing was absolutely dreadful, and there was no delicate way of putting it. From the moment she was conceived, she was doomed to have a miserable life. Her mother had taken a risk by bringing her into this world, little did she know that the daughter paid the price for the mistakes of the mother. To be blunt, she hated her parents. She hated both of them. Their recklessness and stupidity had turned her into the shell of a seiren she had become. The only reason she was alive was because she did not have the means to change that.

...

Once upon a time, over half a century ago, her mother had fallen in love with a human male. The concept was an ancient one; every seiren from the beginning of eternity had a peirasmós. One human would tempt them to reject the ways of their sisters. If you were worthy, you would kill them as you would any other human. If you were not, you would be murdered along with them. Never once had there been one to reject their kin, until her mother discovered the shipwrecked man barely skimming the perimeter of _seiren_ waters.

The seiren did not like to kill. Creating life was always more miraculous than taking it. Their secrecy was sacred. No one from land should ever have the precious knowledge of their existence. When men took to the sea, there was no doubt to their ancestors the path they would take. The melodic trance became a powerful weapon against the weak human mind, and eventually, the seiren became a whisper of a rumor. A legend. A fairytale.

She did not know why her mother failed the test, or how she spotted him before his presence was made known to her sisters. From what her own sisters had told her, she dragged his mutilated body to an island that night and laid with him, having no qualms regarding the ancient practice that had been brutally violated. Her terrible soul kept him well, nursed him back to health. She allowed him to know her from the inside out, rather than trick him to falling for her. She put the love of a man before the love of her sisters. Worst of all, she carried his child for 273 days, until she birthed in the spring. That was when she was finally discovered. They showed her endless mercy by sparing the life of her child. For it was not the child who had sinned, it was her mother.

There was not a day that went by where she was not reminded that she was never supposed to have been born. It was drilled into her head that she would never follow the footsteps of her wretched parents. With thin rope they acquired from a ship they took down, they bound the base of her tail and the center, so that even when she dried and her form switched to limbs, walking would be quite impossible. It was so tight that the only way it stayed was a curse of some sort. Only an outside source could remove it. She would be punished if there was ever an attempt to walk.

Every evening, around the time that the sun was on the brink of going down, she breached the surface and stared at the sky. Her sisters never understood why she was so detached from them; To her, it was blatant their cutting comments would never put a dent in their emotionless shells. To them, they spoke the truth. Their intent was never malicious. Unfortunately, the human half of her was filled with intense emotions that a pure seiren only had to feel in the face of her peirasmós. She endured these human feelings at every hour of every day. She wondered if this was how being fully human was. Did they have a similar weight beat them down?

...

When she breached the surface of the water, the atmosphere was different. She looked into the eyes of a metal bird that she had seen before, but they never had been this close. The menacing birds had always minded their own business, keeping their distance and passing by. The longer she stared at it, however, the sooner she felt the presence of humans: two female, two male. If she were on the bottom of the ocean amongst her sisters, these humans would have gone completely undetected. Maybe that was their prerogative.

One human, dressed in strange red clothing, crawled along the side of the metal bird. Was this normal human behavior? She had never seen any move in that manner. She shut her eyes, hoping he did not see her and continued to float. If he touched the water, her sisters would be notified, but for now, she let them mind their business. Too many lives had already been lost, too many necks torn to shreds by her canine fangs. If she could preserve these four, she would.

Something was different about these humans. One specifically. A wave of intense feelings, one she had never felt before, crashed into her. She stared at the red one, the pulse in her chest growing quicker with every second. An image of her mother and father appeared, her eyes snapping shut. Somehow, she viewed them from an outside perspective, but the harder she tried to see the intricate details of her mother’s face, the more she was only able to see herself.

When her eyes opened again, the red human was dangerously close to her and the surface of the water, suspended upside-down. She opened her mouth, almost instinctively, and sang a sea shanty, willing it to do as she instructed. She was almost certain that she was the first seiren to use her trance to keep someone from entering the sea, but the feeling sitting in her chest forced her to frantically keep it from putting itself in danger.

 

_My heart is pierced by Cupid._

_I disdain all glitter and gold._

_For nothing can console me,_

_but my jolly sailor bold._

 

_Do not touch the water unless you seek to be greeted with death._

She used a similar channel that her sisters communicated with, except it was a closed line between her and this strange looking human. It was in her native language, but somehow she knew he had understood. She continued the sea shanty, one that was hardly ever used. Generally, the melodies they sang were vowels, and the tune improvised. Centuries of listening to pirates and sailors had given them an archive of songs, but it was deemed insensible to use them. There was no need to use the human formed words that they had no way of understanding. Even though she did not know what she was saying, she liked the way they felt in her mouth and she progressed on.

It reached out its hand, trying to touch her face. It was under her spell, but she stayed at a distance, not wanting his hand on her. She pulled down the clothing item covering its face, knowing that it was the least of its concerns. By the way his jaw was set, she knew he was male. Lips, nose, eyes, then-

Love.

An insurmountable force felt like a boulder had been dropped on her, a connection so deep that now, all that mattered was him. It touched every nerve in her body, from the tips of her delicate fingers to the end of her tail. She pictured the endless possibilities, their great escape, their eternal life together. With one kiss, they could hold a bond unlike any other. The kiss of a seiren was the equivalent to eternal life.

But then, despair.

Her face convulsed, and she was unable to stop the tear from rolling down her face. There was no possible way that any of that could ever happen. For the first time in her dreadful 63 years of life, she finally forgave her mother. The intense amounts of hatred she let carry her dissipated, and another tear just about rolled down her cheek.

Just about, if it weren’t for the electric shock, and the plunge into complete darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

After retrieving a sample of the water that he had carefully pulled the creature from, Peter shoved a lid on the test tube and found a solid place to keep it. Mr. Stark was frantically rushing around, demanding his pilots to step on it, laying her limp figure out on the floor of the main cabin. As they flew at an alarming speed, they poured water from the tap over her, a precaution that neither was sure was necessary. There was no telling whether or not she would be able to survive outside of water, so Peter understood Mr. Stark’s anxiety. A similar feeling was stirring inside of him, but its origin wasn’t similar to his mentor’s. He wanted her alive not for research, but for. . .

He was stumped on the reason. It felt too artificial to be love.

They reached the compound ten minutes later, their conversation limited to instruction. By the time they landed, Peter was slightly nauseous from the unnatural speed they had been traveling at. While Mr. Stark gathered necessary equipment, Peter took her in his arms, running as he had been instructed to. Their poorly crafted plan was to put her in a bathtub until Mr. Stark had perfectly replicated the water sample they had collected. It was the best they could do, and probably better than throwing her into the chlorinated pool.

To save time, he webbed up the stairs, thankful that he was able to keep her fastened in one of his arms. Being sticky did have its perks. He sprinted into Captain America’s old bathroom, the tub being the size of a mini pool, and shot another web at the faucet, yanking it to get the water running. He set her down, then stood, awkwardly staring at her while the tub filled.

_Incoming call from Tony Stark._

“Pete, she in the tub?” he sounded frantic.

“Yeah, Mr. Stark. Is there anything you need help with?”

“I’m working on trying to replicate the water and constructing a glass tank to keep her in. Sounds a little inhumane but we really have no idea what we’re working with. While these tests run, I’m going to head up there to give you something to keep her mouth shut. Again, sounds inhumane, but. . .” he didn’t finish his sentence.

“I-I understand Mr. Stark.”

Peter continued staring at her after he hung up. In his 16 measly years on Earth, he had never seen anything quite as disgustingly beautiful as this. . .mermaid in front of him. It was this moment that forced him to acknowledge that the images that fairy tales had intensely ingrained in his mind were either vibrant or cold, not the middle ground that happened to be the reality. He had either expected a colorful tail and a glowing, cheerful face, or a dark tail and an evil, glossy glare. She was neutral. From what he consciously remembered, her silver eyes had looked more curious than malicious, and the bottom half of her body was peachy, barely a different color as her skin.

She looked dead. He knew she wasn’t, just knocked out, but seeing her in this odd, undesired state had caused Peter to clench his teeth. He knelt down beside her, the tub now halfway full, and took her hand in his, examining it carefully. It was a normal, human-looking hand, the nails obviously bitten off.

“Am I interrupting something?” The sudden voice shook Peter harder than expected. He jumped up, his head hitting the ceiling with a loud thud, and when he landed back on the ground, it was on his feet.

_No head trauma detected._

“Thanks, Karen,” he sighed.

Mr. Stark’s suspicious eyes made Peter feel like he could see right through the mask. He walked to the tub, opening the creature’s mouth and placing a black device that covered her teeth. Somehow she looked even eerier than before.

“It’s attaching to her vocal cords. It shouldn’t be harming her in any sort of way. Hopefully, she doesn’t wake up for another hour. I should be done with it all by then,” Mr. Stark fell onto the ground, putting his face in his hands. It was an interesting state to see him in, and a sign that he had to trust Peter to a certain extent. The variations of Mr. Stark that Peter had seen were always cordial.

Peter wasn’t sure what Mr. Stark meant by “it all,” but he desperately wished that he would be included in that plan.

“Are you-”

“Fine. I’m fine,” all traces of informality vanished, and Mr. Stark stalked out of the room, tension radiating off of him. Before he had gotten out the door, though, the man stopped and turned around, “I’m just stressed now, kid. I don’t know what to do with this information now that we have it. I want to sleep on it before we do anything more. I’ll let you know when the tank is finished and then you can go home for the night. Go on. . .what do you call it?”

“Patrol?”

“Patrol. Get some sleep. I’ll call you if I have any updates.”

. . .

She was still unconscious by the time Peter left.

He didn’t bother to have Happy drive him home. He was already in his suit, and he wanted the clarity anyhow. As he jogged, wanting to get somewhat of a workout if he could, her face remained a steady image in front of him. He couldn’t seem to shake that dream or vision, or possibly even hallucination he saw when she took him into her clutches.

Who even were those people? The man was rugged and beaten, close to dead. The woman. . .the only perception he got from her was sorrow. She was overwhelmed by sadness for him and for herself. The fact that Peter knew this, though, was starting to freak him out. He didn’t even know who they were.

Mr. Stark had suggested him going on patrol, but fatigue was getting the better of him. He had already cashed in his Stark-Internship-Coin for the day, and for the first time in months, he would much rather be at home than actively seek out crime. He settled for somewhere in the middle, sitting on the roof of his apartment building. By then, the sun had almost completely set. People walked below hurriedly, some languidly, lovers held hands, and once every so often a little kid would notice him and wave, or an elderly man would smile and salute. Wonder always found those who embraced life.

He had never felt so small.

Becoming Spider-Man was a revolution. Peter had gone from the kid who got picked on to the friendly neighborhood hero. While he still got picked on, it no longer mattered. His life had gained a meaning that he didn’t even know he needed.

They found a _mermaid_. He realized he had given himself a pedestal that she had ripped out from underneath him.

_Incoming call from May Parker._

“Hey, May.”

“Hi, Peter. How’s experimenting?”

He sighed, “I’m actually back in Queens. I’m on the roof.”

“Of our building? Peter why didn’t you-”

“Yeah, don’t be mad. It’s been. . .” there wasn’t a word to describe it, “a day. I’m coming in now.”

“Good. Okay. See you soon.”

He peeled himself off the ground, his body feeling heavier than normal. A strong lapse in energy took away the desire to fancily flip into his window, so he walked down the side of the building like it were a street and jumped into his room, landing on his floor audibly.

“Peter!” May sounded startled. “Was that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he pulled the mask off his face and without bothering to take off the rest of his suit he wandered into the kitchen, practically falling into a chair. His aunt, the powerful woman that she was known to be, stormed in, her hands resting firmly on her hips. Peter looked at her solely with his droopy eyes, his face smashed into one of his palms. Her expression softened, the sight of him seeming to be a relief.

“Did something happen?” she sat next to him, taking the mask out of his hand. She folded it neatly and set it on the table in front of them, searching his eyes for an answer that he didn’t immediately give.

He inhaled sharply, “Sort of.”

“What can I do?”

“God, May, I don’t know,” he was exasperated, but he hadn’t meant to take it out on May. He felt her tense, stand, and start to walk away, probably doing everything not to push him further. She was always wanting to help, and he usually wanted it. This mood was different, and even he was still trying to work through it. He clenched his teeth.

“May- wait. Can I ask you something?”

She turned around and pushed her glasses up on her nose, silently letting him continue. His hands ran from his face and into his hair, gripping it tightly.

“When. . .when aliens attacked New York. . .when Thor and Hulk and Cap and all of them busted out of nowhere. . .how did you feel?”

She blinked, and it was obvious that was not the question that she had expected. She clasped her hands together, pulling at them anxiously.

Her response was interesting, “I felt like my entire world had been crushed.”

Peter sat up in his chair, intrigued but confused. She leaned on the counter, breaking the tension he had stupidly created.

“You think that aliens exist. Somehow you know that there is other life out there. The universe is too vast for that not to be the case. For some reason, I don’t think that we are ever ready for something like that to become reality. We needed to evacuate, remember? I mean, you were only seven. We told you it was a vacation. But spending a few weeks living with my college friend in Texas was rather humbling. I probably would have gone insane if it hadn’t been for-” she cut herself off before saying his uncle’s name.

Peter let that sit for a silent few moments.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“What was it like when you returned?”

She looked around the apartment, “Different, for sure. World crushing. I didn’t sleep for a few days.”

There was an elephant in the room that neither of them was addressing.

“And how did he feel?”

She smiled, which wasn’t the norm. Usually bringing up Ben got a stern, one worded response. The anger stage of grief hadn’t sat well with May.

“He made fun of me. He put on alien masks and ran around the house with you, making noises and reminding me that everything was going to be alright. We had each other still, and that was what counted for him.”

Peter stared at his hands, a smile creeping up into his face. It was nice to know that this earth-shattering feeling was almost universal, but somehow, good could always come from it. His hopelessness lifted and he looked at May, shaking his head.

“Science with Mr. Stark is quite a rollercoaster,” was all he knew he could say. Discovering a species of merpeople had to be some kind of classified.

“When the time is right you should tell me all about it,” she winked at him and walked away.

Whether or not May had put the idea in his head, he hardly got any sleep. When he did, that recurring image of the shipwrecked sailor plagued his dreams. It didn’t necessarily scare him, but it was pretty disturbing, and its recurrence didn’t particularly help either. It was so vivid that he felt the wind on his face and could smell the salt in the air. The plot slowly progressed, each time he caught sleep he received another piece, until, after a series of rather uncomfortable images, the woman was pregnant.

The dream wasn’t his own. It had been given to him. The only time he had actually dreamt at all, they were nightmares of his uncle’s death, and after lots of therapy, those had gone away. The possibility that he was coming up with this story in his own head was close to none.

The woman looked strikingly like the mermaid he had pulled from the water, but not quite. Peter had seen the dream so many times by now that he could actually take the time to analyze it. The women had the same, perfectly structured eyes and cheekbones, but their noses differed. The nose on Peter’s mermaid was slightly longer and just barely wider.

Almost like the one on the man in the dream. How he hadn’t put that together was baffling. The mermaid in the bathtub was showing him the story of. . .

How she was conceived? Peter had never frowned so deeply in his life.

At six in the morning, Peter had gotten a maximum of four hours of mediocre sleep. He unlocked his phone to find a text from Mr. Stark, sent two hours prior. Peter chuckled to himself but rushed to open the message.

_Operation Siren is a go. She’s been awake for 30 minutes and doesn’t seem to be hostile. As soon as you see this try and get over here. No need to come suited, but bring it just in case. Text Happy when you’re almost ready to go._

_While up aloft in storm_

_From me his absence mourn_

_And firmly pray arrive the day_

_He’s never more to roam_


	4. Chapter 4

She arose from the darkness confused and disoriented. Sleep was an experience she had never felt before, and the grogginess that weighed her down forced her to wonder why humans partook in such a painful ritual. Her species never needed sleep, though they had the capability. Complete blackness for hours, only to feel ill when returning, seemed pointless. It felt normal, but as soon as her eyes popped open she knew she definitely had been taken from the sea. Her surroundings were contained: a clear looking barrier stopping her from swimming a certain distance in front of her. She accidentally ran directly into it a few times, face first. Exasperated, she tried to open her mouth, but something kept her jaw sewn shut, and her throat tightened when she tried to hum a note. Some device was keeping her from using her greatest and only defense, and that was within reason.

The human from the metal bird sat in a chair in front of her, his head hanging and resting on his chest. She accidentally fell into the barrier one last time, resulting in a loud noise jerking the human awake. He locked eyes with her, his half open, and watched as he fully registered what he had woken up to.

She had no desire to hurt him or her peirasmós, which would shock any one of her sisters. She had spent a half of a century murdering innocent humans, carrying the burden of hundreds of lives lost, and now she was finally able to rescind. Never had she been given a choice to decide what she wanted, so as long as these humans did not hurt her, she would leave them alone. Ideally, she would never have to return to the wretched sea ever again.

The only obstacle she could pinpoint was communication. She watched this human pace back and forth, tapping his fingers on a rectangular box. A few times he looked at her, speaking words that she could not interpret. She tried to listen and understand, but eventually gave up, blocking out the annoying human’s voice. No matter how loudly or slowly he talked, she was never going to be able to understand what he was trying to tell her. So she swam.

Eventually, the human gave up too.

Time passed slowly in her new environment. Before, she had a wide range of ocean to explore and sea creatures to interact with. The fish usually avoided most seiren; their menacing auras not mixing well. She had a gentle nature that she assumed came from her father. For hours she would swim with schools of fish, sometimes dolphins, once in a while she would befriend a shark.

The lack of a voice was the worst factor, though. She understood their fear, but she had spent most of her life in song. They sang even when there were no humans around, usually with the trance turned off, and that was what she would do if it were not for whatever was keeping her mouth glued shut. She tried to open it again, using more force, but it just caused her to gag and cough, oxygen bubbles coming from her nose.

An image of her _peirasmós_ flashed across her eyes. She knew he was sleeping in his home thanks to the binding connection that had formed in last moment she was awake. It could have been days or hours since then. She sank to the bottom of the containment and let her eyes slowly shut, feeling slightly disconnected from the water that she was now finding home. She had not expected the bond to be so strong already. Deep in her mind, she could feel that he was in a restless sleep. Every once in a while, something would jerk him awake. Something inside of her hated that she had this insight. It felt intrusive. If she could somehow tell him…

She reminded herself that communication with him would be limited. It would be a long while before she could verbalize exactly what their connection meant, and probably even longer for him to trust that she was telling the truth. She could only hope they would be patient enough with her to help her learn their language and their ways. As far as she knew, she would be sent back to the ocean as soon as they got what they wanted from her. She did not even know what that was. The thought was sickening.

Eyes still shut, she envisioned her parents. She had a clear image of them, as her sisters had drilled it into her brain. The unique channel that the seiren shared allowed them to view memories even from the deepest ends of their minds. Even though she had just been born, she saw how her mother’s life ended as if she had been there herself.

It meant that her greatest flaw was open for everyone to see at any time they wanted to.

Luckily, she was so far from them now that the channel seemed to have been cut off. Her mind had never been so silent. Every once in a while she would hear a hint of a whisper, but it was easily brushed away. The power to block them out almost brought a smile to her face.

There was a tap on her encasement, and she flinched. The human from before looked concerned, and he tried, again, to tell her something, but it all sounded like gibberish. Unamused, she swam towards him, attempting to get a better look. He had oddly shaped hair on his face. She had seen men with hair on their face before, but the way it grew with sharp points was strange.

An hour later, she was still aimlessly swimming in the small space she was given. She knew that her peirasmós was on his way. He had woken up for the upteenth time, but this time he finally stayed awake. He was closer to her than he was before.

She perked up when he approached.

He no longer wore the vibrant, red clothing that he had the first time they met. His clothes reflected a similar feel to the other human he was with. They conversed, their puzzled expressions almost an identical match. She almost wished she could decipher how he was feeling, but the bond did not extend that far. Without her voice, he probably thought she was ugly and detestable, just as her sisters had. In a perfect world, she would have weaned him off of her trance, starting with a weaker one initially anyhow. Alas, she would be first to remind anyone that the world was far from perfect.

The older human left, looking frustrated. The peirasmós watched, his dark brown eyes not leaving until the door slammed shut. When he turned back, their eyes fastened on each other, her heart bursting into a surge of energy. She had not felt a positive emotion since she was a youngling, but looking at his soft features almost brought a smile to her face. Her right hand pressed into the barrier, every part of her desiring to make contact with his hand. On the other side, he did the same thing. If there were not that small sliver stopping them…

She spoke.

_boreíte na me akoúsete epeidí eíste diaforetikoí_

She said it to him across the mental, unseen channel her bond had given. It was not out loud, just enough for him to hear. As soon as she finished her sentence, however, his hand flew away and fear visibly struck him. Her eyes shot to his hand that quivered violently. He raised it up, looking at it like it was an anomaly, which it most likely was to him. She had scared him unintentionally. Something she was so used to, hearing others’ voices inside her head, was not normal for him.

He spoke a word, needing to clear his throat to speak properly. He only said one word in his own language and repeated it. Frantically, he searched through his own black box, his fingers flying across it. Slowing down, he pressed on it one more time, and she finally heard a word she recognized.

“Eísai Éllinas,” the voice was robotic and without inflection, and came from the box he was holding.

_You are Greek._

After a long time of not recognizing any words, of hearing them but not understanding, she finally heard a distorted phrase from him. It was not much, but it was a step in the right direction. She rose in excitement, pressing on the glass harder, a smile flashing across her face. She had never felt the emotion of happiness, but the stirring in her stomach had to be something close to it.

Greek. _Éllinas_. It was the language man had spoken at the start of their reign over the sea. It was the first set of words that they heard. Over time, they slowly stopped hearing their victims speak it. The language died and was replaced with a variety of others. Her sisters found them ugly, and they insisted to keep to tradition. The _seiren_ loved their traditions.

She already had started thinking of them in the past tense. There was still a high possibility she would have to return to them, but she would fight that until they forcibly threw her back.

He shouted at the other human excitedly, using his arms to make a waving motion. She stared at them, eager to hear more from them. Every other second she seemed to catch her peirasmós stealing a glance at her and then immediately looking away. It was a timid reaction to the curious stare she had glued on him and the other human. Minutes passed and she waited while they tapped on their black box, until both looked at her again, her peirasmós looking tense with anticipation.

“Tha thélate na mas peíte ti eísai?”

_Would you like to tell us who you are?_

She nodded eagerly, tapping on her teeth. The device on her voice had to be taken off if she were to be able to say a word. She might even be able to speak their language through her _peirasmós_ if they took it off; the trance had that sort of power. They looked at each other, their brows furrowed in what was probably fear. More discussion, more time, and she waited for them to come to a consensus. All she wanted to do was reach out to them. She wanted to reach out to him.

What they did not know was her capability to adjust how much a trance could affect them. There was a meticulous scale on how strong she wanted it to be, with millions of factors contributing to it. If a person was weak in the mind, they were easier lured, and it did not require the same amount of energy as someone who was highly intelligent. She could already tell that it would take a lot for either of them to completely fall for her if she had any intent to do that in the first place.

At the minimum, taking off the uncomfortable device could help them hear her without even luring them. She only wanted to keep them on the lowest possible end of the scale. The last thing she wanted to do was lose either one of their trust.

“Sto próto simádi tis prodosías sas, tha to epistrépsoume sto stóma sas,” the monotonous voice jerked her back to the situation at hand.

_At the first sign of your betrayal, we will return this to your mouth._

Fear still lingered in their eyes, but she understood their hesitation. She nodded again, her eyes locked on the younger one she cared for so deeply. The nod seemed to be a universal sign that they recognized as an affirmative answer.

She swam to the top of the encasement, the older human meeting her there. She hoisted herself up over the edge, allowing him to use a metal tool to detach what gagged her. She felt a rush of air as it released her vocal folds, and the air felt easier to breathe.

Letting go, she fell back into the water, smiling with relaxation. When she re-opened her eyes, the two humans were looking at her intensely, holding on to her every move.

She opened her mouth and began to sing.


	5. Chapter 5

She was a wonder.

Peter had never been as speechless as when he saw her fully awake staring directly at him. He didn’t want to break eye contact, for fear that they would never regain it. Her captivity now was much different than it was before. This felt more grounded and less dreamlike. He felt like he was actually in control of how he interacted with her. It had to be her voice that kept him under the surreal trance.

Mr. Stark looked uneasy and frustrated. He had been observing her for a much longer period of time and had no success in effectively communicating with her. Peter kept quiet, allowing his mentor to deliberate more possibilities.

“I have no idea. I tried talking slower, louder, with more diction. I spoke in Japanese, French, and Russian, but none of them seemed to register. I have no idea,” Mr. Stark rubbed his eyes and continued to repeat “I have no idea” until it led him out the door. If Peter had anything to contribute he would have, but he was just as stumped. If Tony Stark couldn’t figure it out, who would?

He watched Tony as he left, then returned to the mermaid’s eyes. Not really thinking much of it, he reached out his hand and placed it on her glass encasement. She mirrored him. He didn’t know how to explain it, but he somehow felt connected to her; there was an energy that laid between their hands, unlike anything he had felt before. Even when her hypnotic voice was stolen from her, he had a persistent fascination with everything that she was. Maybe it was the scientist in him; he was always curious and always asking questions. Though this energy, the tingling in the palm of his hand, couldn’t be narrowed down to just curiosity.

_boreíte na me akoúsete epeidí eíste diaforetikoí_

The voice was in his head, but it didn’t sound like his own. Startled, he jumped back a few feet, his entire person shaking with anxiety. It was a female voice speaking in a harsh whisper, and it had been inside his head. He looked at her, noticing that her eyes were filled with concern. She was looking at his hand, which was an obvious hint as to how he was feeling. He stared too, it was quivering uncontrollably.

It was her. She spoke to him through his brain. But how?

The language was recognizable. It existed. He repeated the words he remembered silently, honing in the skills he had gained from spelling bees. He had never been a champion, but he still knew how to recognize the origin of a word. If he could identify the origin, then maybe they could use that to help identify if the language was unique or if it was human.

Greek!

Not only was the origin Greek, if he was correct, the language itself was Greek too.

“Greek! It’s Greek! I think you were speaking Greek!” he laughed, pulling his phone from his pocket. Pulling up Google Translate, he typed and retyped a few words. He wanted his first words to her to be clear and understandable. He settled on the phrase “You are Greek.” A declarative sentence that he purposefully eliminated the contraction from. Google Translate was always a shot in the dark with its accuracy, so using a contraction would not be smart. While he didn’t know much about her, either, he did know that she lived in the ocean for all of her life. Her use of language had to be vastly different than his. When the website presented the Greek translation, he hit the audio, knowing he would botch the pronunciation.

“Eísai Éllinas,” it said. When he looked to her for a response, he saw her face light up with obvious excitement. He had finally reached her.

“Mr. Stark!” he yelled, laughing some more, “Mr. Stark I got through! I got through to her!”

Mr. Stark had been standing right outside of his lab, pacing back and forth. The sound of Peter’s eager yells, he turned, looking skeptical. Peter waved him in with gleeful animation.

“Mr. Stark, she’s Greek. She spoke Greek to me. So I used the audio on Google Translate, and she heard it. She understood,” he explained, pointing to his phone and to her. The other man had his arms crossed, but deep down there was a belief that Peter saw.

“How did she speak? Did the device not work?” Mr. Stark knew that the device worked, he was quizzing Peter on how he came to the conclusion.

“It’s weird. Complicated. But I promise it worked. Look at her,” Peter didn’t want Mr. Stark to think she was controlling his mind, because she definitely wasn’t. She had simply told him something in Greek that he just didn’t understand yet. All she wanted to do was speak with him.

“We need her to explain what she is and where she came from,” Mr. Stark’s voice was heavy with exhaustion. He’d been up since four in the morning, possibly earlier. They looked at each other, knowing they should carefully determine how to phrase their sentence.

“Would you like to explain-”

“No. Tell.”

“Okay. Would you like to tell me-”

“Us.”

“Would you like to tell us….”

Mr. Stark was chewing on the inside of his cheek, “Would you like to tell us who you are.”

They nodded at each other, and Peter hit the audio button.

She nodded back at them, tapping on the device keeping her from speaking. Peter could feel Mr. Stark tensing next to him. Taking off what was keeping them fully aware was the last thing that he wanted to do.

“We can’t do that.”

Peter exhaled, “Mr. Stark I know that-”

“Peter.” He knew that the myth in front of them had no intention to hurt them, but he didn’t know how he knew that. Some feeling, an instinct was aching to help her. For a split second, he feared that she somehow had her control on him, but the haze was simply not there. He had experienced the stupor and this was not it. If she had ill intention they would have been dead back when they first encountered her.

She was more afraid than both of them combined. He wished he could articulate to Mr. Stark how simple this all was, but that was definitely impossible.

“We have to,” he whispered, staring at the floor. He felt Mr. Stark’s gaze on him and heard him sigh and walk towards the tank. The creature met him at the top, hoisting herself over the edge where Mr. Stark unfastened his device with a screwdriver. The fact that the man had developed it in under 20 minutes was astounding, but that was just a great word to describe the mind of Tony Stark. He repeatedly did was no other man could do, and Peter admired that. He had admired that for a long time.

When she fell back into the water, the tension that she had been carrying in her shoulders and jaw noticeably released. Her hands lingered on her lips and brushed over her neck, remembering now that she had the ability to use them. Looking up at them, she focused her eyes on Peter and started to sing.

He knew he was not in a trance, but she showed them a vision through the power of her voice.

_A long time ago, from the sea foam on the coast of the island where I was born, my people arose. The first seiren swam, lonely in the sea until she discovered that whatever had created her gave her the gift of reproduction. She did not need a male to reproduce, she was fully capable of doing it all on her own._

_They remained isolated and content for a long time. No one disturbed them. No one disturbed them until man invaded the sea. The seiren set very clear boundaries for themselves. We have our coordinates memorized. The law became that if any man crossed the border, they would be ended. That is when the trance began. Whoever created them gave them a power that no regular mortal could behold. Songspeak is what they call it. Their greatest and most deadly weapon. For centuries they lure anyone who trespasses into the depths of the ocean to never be seen again._

_For centuries they remained undetected. Until now._

Peter had no idea how the words were forming in his head. She was not speaking them from her mouth, and he knew she didn’t know English. It had to be a part of her gift. On some level, they were in her spell, but just barely enough so that they knew what she was saying. He blinked a couple times after she finished, his eyes dry from keeping them open for too long. When he looked over at Mr. Stark, the man was completely flabbergasted. It was his first time experiencing anything the seiren was capable of, and he it was obvious he was still trying to process it.

“How did we…how did we hear that,” Mr. Stark was growing pale. They both looked at her, swimming and humming to herself. “

I don’t think we’ll ever know,” Peter had shuffled through various scientific explanations, but all had come up short. There was always a place where he went wrong and his theory was debunked.

“I’ll figure it out. I think it’s time for you to go.”

Peter was taken aback, “What? But Mr. Stark-”

“I probably have to speak with someone in government about this. Goddamnit they’re going to want to meddle with her. Fuck,” Mr. Stark was no longer speaking to Peter but to himself.

“Mr. Stark!”

“What, Peter?” his mentor looked wildly frustrated. This was way over both of their heads, and it was starting to show.

If Peter was honest, he absolutely did not want to leave. He had felt her fear dissipate when he entered the room, and it wasn’t a coincidence. She felt safer with him, and he wanted her to feel relaxed if she could.

From this impression, Peter had trouble finding anything evil in her intentions. It was difficult for him to come to that conclusion, as she herself had said that they killed any man that invaded their territory. On the other hand, she had consistently referred to her own species as separate entities. It sounded like she didn’t identify with them at all.

“I helped discover her too,” he murmured, knowing that Mr. Stark either wouldn’t hear or would kick him out nonetheless.

“I’m going to take a nap. Try to. Keep an eye on her. Any sign of getting hypnotized you stick that thing on her mouth,” Mr. Stark rubbed his eyes, yawned, and made his exit.

They were alone.

Peter couldn’t help but feel surprised at all the leeway he was receiving. This had been the second time today that Mr. Stark had given in to his pleas, but he was also extremely overtired. Mr. Stark had brought up an important factor going into the situation they had been given. At some point, they were going to have to tell the UN that the reason that the ships had gone missing was due to a mermaid species destroying them. All the people on those ships are dead. It might be a good idea to change the trade routes.

He looked at her, feeling like he was actually allowed to for the first time since arriving. Her chest was bare, which would usually be a cause for him to be uncomfortable, but her hair was so thick and long that it tended to be covering her up for the most part. He knew that he shouldn’t feel shy of it; it was merely a fact of life, but it was still something he wasn’t particularly used to seeing. He kept his eyes on her face, studying her features.

She was so effortlessly beautiful. Even when he was free of her voice, he knew that. Her eyes were wide and inquisitive. Her lips were slightly open and had the perfect shape. She had high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. He knew he had never seen anyone as ethereal as she.

He sighed, sitting down in the chair that he assumed Mr. Stark had fallen asleep in and stared at her a while longer. She stared right back.

He decided he wanted to go out on a limb. If he could teach her one thing, he would try and teach her who he was. He approached the tank slowly, not wanting to startle her. She noticed this change and returned her hand to the wall, her urgent eyes asking him to do the same. He pressed his hand against hers once again, wanting to confirm that the smallest bit of energy he had felt wasn’t all in his imagination.

“Peter,” he said, pointing to his chest. “My name is Peter.”

Her eyes looked as if they were processing the information, or that was just what Peter wanted to see. Now that he had time to look into them, he saw that they were a silvery gray. “

Peter,” he said it slowly this time, this time pulling his hand from the glass to make sure she saw where he was pointing. She swam to the top, Peter’s head following her movements. He wanted to trust her, so he tried not to relay the fact that his heart had started racing and his palms were sweating. She hoisted herself over the edge, allowing the entirety of her torso to bend over the edge. She was bent halfway, and with Peter looking straight up, their faces were barely touching.

She rested a hand on the side of his face. It startled him slightly that her hand was cold and slimy. For a second, Peter lost focus, considering why this would be. The quickest conclusion he could come to was the slime came from a mucous layer that helped keep her skin and tail moisturized. While it sounded slightly odious, it made sense.

Blinking hard, he re-engaged himself with the moment, her eyes boring into his. He felt the weight of his cheek against her hand and acknowledged that everything in his sight was clear. He was not under any sort of spell; if that had been so, everything would have been hazy. He enjoyed the feeling of her touch. While it was initially unsettling, now it was comforting.

“Pete….” she was testing out the sound of her own speaking voice. The accent wasn’t Greek, she sounded as if she had never spoken a word in her life, “Er.”

He laughed, joyfully, “Peter. That’s my name! Peter!”

“Pete...Er.”

“You got it! That’s right!”

“Peter.”


	6. Chapter 6

Tony Stark was stuck in a ditch, and he was desperate to find a way out.

Inside of his lab was a creature. A _creature_. The little fucking mermaid. He had acted nonchalant in front of the kid when they had first seen her out on the ocean, but that was before he realized all of the complications that followed her. She was a political nightmare. Once he said a word to any person in government, she would be pulled apart at the seams. She would be pricked and pried at until the poor thing went mad and then thrown back into the ocean.

His ears were hot and his heart was racing as he stalked out of the room. He didn’t want to lash out on Peter any more than he already had, but the situation was so complicated it made his brain hurt, and it felt impossible to think clearly when he was with them. The thing could put a human into a trance just by opening her mouth. How were they supposed to know her intentions? Why hadn’t she tricked them into drowning already?

He liked to think he vaguely knew the answer to that question. Peter had some sort of connection with her, and she reciprocated. They mirrored each other’s looks of longing like two lonely teenagers - or what appeared to be teenagers - looking at each other across the middle school gym at a shitty dance. This dance was just about as shitty as it got. Tony had gotten two hours of sleep, was preventing two mutant kids from falling in love, and for all he knew Peter was asphyxiating as he rode the elevator to his bedroom.

For the millionth time that afternoon, he strayed from the idea that she was an evil being. The way she spoke about her own species was detached and disoriented. It reminded him of how he spoke about his father: there was no sense of belonging.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. is Peter still alive?” he just wanted to ease his anxiety.

_Peter Parker is alive and in good health in your lab._

“Good.”

He exited the elevator and entered his room, where his bed had never looked so welcoming. Tony wasn’t particularly good at sleeping, but two nights in a row he had gotten less sleep than any normal human being got in one night. When he reached the edge, he crumpled into it, closing his eyes.

All he could see were the silver eyes of their mermaid. Their rare beauty was unmatched but simultaneously off-putting. Nagging at the back of his brain like a rock in his shoe was the reminder that he needed to tell someone about his murderous species of siren that was plaguing the Atlantic ocean.

He opened his eyes again, an idea flickering inside his brain.

“Call Rhodey.”

_Calling James Rhodes._

It was a shot in the dark. Rhodey was a busy man, but when he had time for Tony he made it. The fact that it had taken this long to call his best friend was proof of how tired he actually was. The screen perched on a wardrobe across from his bed rang for about 30 seconds, and he was almost certain that he wouldn’t pick up.

_Call to James Rhodes connected._

A pleasant surprise.

“Now what could you want from me now, Stark!” there was a hint of playfulness in Rhodey’s voice.

“Rhodes, I’m only calling to say hello!”

“With those bags under your eyes? Definitely not the case. Lay it on me, Tony, I’m all ears.”

Tony sighed, knowing that there was no way he was ready for this, “I...know why the ships have gone missing.”

He lifted his eyes to see Rhodey’s face fall.

“You - what?”

Slight nausea had settled into his stomach, which his exhaustion probably contributed to. He wanted to explain further, but had trouble getting the words out. The actuality of the lives that had been lost was starting to sink in. Tony was the first to have confirmation that 64 people were dead. 64 families were about to have their hope obliterated.

“Peter and I...we got lucky. We found the cause of the disappearances.”

“Tony.”

His friend sounded hesitant. Almost as if he didn’t want to hear what Tony had to say. He knew he had to pick his words carefully; the mermaid was so tangible that it never crossed his mind that he would need to do a bit of convincing before anyone believed him. After pondering all the possibilities, he finally gave into deciding it would be best just to show rather than tell.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., show the live feed going into my lab.”

The camera switched from Tony’s face to a clear image of the lab. The creature was leaning over the side of the tank, bent halfway, staring inquisitively into the kid’s eyes. Their faces were barely inches apart, and the image struck a chord in Tony’s stomach, his heart rate picking up.

Still, it didn’t look like the kid was in any immediate danger, so he let them be.

“Tony what is that,” the words were phrased less like a question and more like a demand.

“She calls herself a siren. You know. Like from the Greek myths. She even speaks Greek as well,” he looked at his friend who obviously had his teeth clenched. The distressed look was not foreign. Just about every decision Tony made resulted in that look.

“Was it- was it just her? Are there more?”

“There’s an entire species. She claims to be half human...” Tony wanted to continue, but it was such a long story, and he probably wouldn’t have done it justice, anyhow.

“What do you think we should do?” Rhodey looked just as mystified as Tony.

“She said…” Tony inhaled, “She said that they have their coordinates memorized. That any human vessel to touch the water past the coordinates are killed without question.”

“Could we technically consider this an invasive species?”

“No. They’ve been there for centuries. Since fucking ancient Greece. Technically we’re the invasive species. Is there…” Tony sighed. What he was about to request was typical: it sounded easy in his head, but he had no clue if Rhodey would help him out.

“What is it. What’s the idea.”

“I just want to change the trade routes, and nothing else. I’ll measure the coordinates myself. I don’t want to give the reason. I don’t want to cause mass mayhem because mermaids exist.”

They were in the ditch, and Tony could tell Rhodey didn’t know what to do, either. He hadn’t even heard her story from the source. Hearing her talk about it, or however it was she communicated, had brought Tony to pity the poor thing, and it wasn’t a result of her trancing capabilities. She sounded dispirited as she described her own culture. If she could change it, she would. Or for her sake, he hoped that was how she felt.

“They’re already working on new trade routes…” Rhodey sighed, “If you can find the coordinates...I can try and lure away from that direction. No guarantees. We’ll be lucky if that works.”

Tony felt some tension in his shoulders release. He knew he could always count on his best friend, but with this, he hadn’t been sure.

“Tony...you do realize that you are robbing the families of the truth.”

There was another chord played on his heart. He had thought about that the most. These people were holding on to the thought that their loved ones might still be alive, and he held the truth. He had the power to destroy their worlds. Rubbing his eyes, he deflated, lying on the ground.

“I’ve ruined so many lives, Rhodes.”

A few months ago, Rhodey would have argued, but Tony had made the comment so many times that there was no point anymore. He was close to burning out; helping people always seemed to come with a cost. For now, he wanted to protect those that he cared about the most, and that included Peter. His mentoring relationship with the kid was starting to grow into something more, and while he usually pushed away that type of connection, this kid made him want to embrace it. He saw a lot of himself in Peter, and if he could steer him in the right direction he would.

“Get me those coordinates and I’ll write a proposal for the trade route change. You’re lucky you got an inside source in the government,” Rhodey chuckled quietly, waved at the screen, and ended the call.

Tony requested to be shown the security feed from the lab again, zooming in on the kid and his creature. He turned the volume up, noticing that Peter was speaking. He was repeating his name and pointing to himself, probably with the desire to have her learn it. It was this ambition that had brought Tony to invite Peter on this mission. Peter liked science, sure, but the curiosity that drove him was what made him good at it.

Much to Tony’s surprise, he heard the creature speak. She said his name, in a broken and shaky voice. It was the voice of someone who had never spoken aloud before. Apparently, the technique she used for singing could not be carried over to spoken word. She trusted Peter, and that was good. They would be able to rehabilitate her and hopefully find out more about this unknown species. Once they had established a mutual understanding of each other, maybe then they could reveal to the world that she existed.

He shut his eyes, listening to the duo say Peter’s name back and forth, Peter laughing gleefully. As Tony finally drifted off to sleep, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of them. Two kids making a big impact on his life. It was the first positive force he had received after months of destruction.

With the idea of resting peacefully at the forefront of his thoughts, Tony let it take him into a dreamless sleep, hoping that he would wake up just as relaxed.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter was overjoyed that he had made that connection with her, and that she wanted to return it had him walking on air. It was the first step in hopefully adapting her to a life similar to a human being. She slipped back into the water, something resembling a smile lingering on her face.

_I would like to tell you my story._

Now that he was used to hearing her voice inside his head, he allowed himself to listen to how it actually sounded, even though he wasn’t technically hearing it. She had a low, soothing voice, similar to how she sang. When he thought of a siren, he typically imaged a high soprano-like voice, but her low alto sound captured him just as much. He wondered if the others had different vocal types or if they were all the same. If they reproduced asexually as she had described, then they would all have the exact same vocal folds. She was different in that she was half human, so maybe she was the odd one out.

Peter nodded, wishing he could communicate back to her. He had so many questions that she wouldn’t be able to answer for a long time.

Instead of sitting back in his chair, he crouched down and leaned his head up against the side of the glass. He could hear the soothing sound of the water circulating the containment, and her voice inside his head like earbuds. There was a pleasant, warm feeling in his stomach, and he knew he was somewhat underneath her spell. It was a sensation that he knew he would have to get used to, as well as trust. Until she could speak it was the only way that she would be able to communicate with him.

As she told her story, he was shown images to go along with it. It was like watching a movie. The beginning was something he had already seen in his sleep; a human and a siren falling in love, creating a child, but the horror that followed was difficult for him to watch. The set of lovers had their throats torn out by the creatures for going against the siren law. A brutal way to be killed. The child, however, was preserved, after much deliberation.

She was beaten down. Her existence was held over her head like a cat toy on a string. They demanded her to be grateful for her life and abused her at the same time. She was isolated, picked on, her tail was nipped on by pointed incisors, and no single siren seemed to be on her side. She was hated only for being born by a human.

To prevent her from moving onto land as her mother did, the base of her tail and the mid-waist were tied with a rope, tightly. Apparently, it was cursed, but Peter knew that this had to be a trick placed in her mind. Unless there was such thing as magic, which was now entirely possible, he felt like he could cut the rope with a good pair of scissors or a knife.

She had never experienced love or care. This was the first time anyone had asked her about _her_.

Through this trance, he felt the same emotions she felt. The tear slipping down his face was completely involuntary. The intense amounts of pain she felt day by day, the strong desire to cease from living, it was a depression much like many teenagers his age faced. He could tell that she just didn’t have the resources to pursue death by her own hand. She was subject to a life she didn’t ask to live.

Peter hoped that they had saved her. He turned around, pressing his forehead against the cold glass and subdued a sob. The desire to cry was strange, as he had known this being for less than a day, but he knew that it was partially due to her strong emotions feeding through the spell. Still, he felt an inexplicable tie to her. A fishing line connected their hearts. He opened his eyes to see her silver irises, a fragment of compassion lingering in them.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

His siren became his new research project. Mr. Stark even approved him to become the lead worker on her, entrusting him to do what was right and ethical and to be as thorough as possible. It was an extension of his Stark Internship. Per Aunt May’s request, his routine became homework, patrol, and _then_ siren. 

ome days, he didn’t have much to do concerning to her. Those days consisted of sitting by her doing homework, taking notes on her behavior and physicality, listening to her sing, and then going home. On Fridays, he stayed the night. Most days, they practiced speech. Peter figured that the first step to getting the most accurate assessment would be if it came from her own interpretation on how she operated.

Her ability to verbalize was limited, but he discovered that she picked up on the meaning of words quickly. The more he babbled, talking about his day, the more she was able to respond within his mind. It was a revolutionary day when they were finally able to have a complete conversation.

Peter was unsure on how Mr. Stark had managed the politics behind this. He was grateful that it wasn’t his responsibility to figure out how to tell the government about this creature, as he wouldn’t know how to do it. It all seemed awfully complicated, and he had been tempted to talk to Mr. Ellis about the situation, but always tended to wimp out on it. Asking Mr. Stark would be out of the question; he already had enough on his mind.

Two months after they first discovered her, Peter sat at the base of her tank, skimming The Great Gatsby. She had been swimming and singing, mindlessly. When she stopped he hadn’t noticed that the book had fallen on his lap, and he was staring into open space. She had told him once that she never purposefully intended for him to fall under her trance, sometimes people were susceptible. Some more than others. From what she could tell, he had a pretty strong mind. For most sirens, it would be difficult to break through.

She seemed to infer that it was different for her case, and he wondered why but didn’t ask. She had vowed to him to never make him do anything he didn’t want to, and he trusted her.

He turned around looking at her to question why she had stopped. She fell to the bottom, sitting and letting her tail extend behind her. She gave him a short grin, the closest he had gotten her to smile, and leaned her head against the glass on the same spot his rested. The way she looked at him, he sometimes felt as if he was falling. Her mystic stare was enough to make his heart swell.

_I would like to be able to identify myself._

Peter raised his eyebrows, “You want a name?”

She nodded. Peter gestured at her, and he could see the slight irritation by the way her face twitched, but she followed what he was asking for, by mouthing the word ‘yes’ and the word ‘name.’ It was an easy way of practicing her dictation without her having to swim to the top and speak the words out loud.

He pulled out his laptop and googled ‘popular names’ to get a brainstorm going. He figured he would spurt names out until she found one she liked, it probably wouldn’t take too long.

He hoped it wouldn’t take too long.

...

An hour later, Peter was still lazily reading names, and she was laying over the edge of the tank, head dangling, saying, “no” to almost every suggestion. Rarely was there hesitation. She insisted that she would know the name when she heard the right one, so they compromised that he would keep helping her if she spoke her responses out loud.

“Name number 300 is Haven.”

She scrunched her nose, “No.”

“Elsie.” “No.”

“Nyla.” “No.”

“Paris?” “No.”

“Lena.”

There was a hesitation that he hadn’t heard in a while. Sometimes she paused for a second or two, a possible contemplation, but this hesitation was longer, and her facial features relaxed at the sound of it.

Peter broke into a grin. “You like that one? Lena?”

She nodded.

“Say it. Say the words.”

“My name…my name is L-” she hadn’t spoken the word before, so it was difficult for her to string the consonants and syllables together.

“You got this.”

“Lena. My name. Is. Lena.”

Peter shut his laptop and turned around. She had done the same, now letting her torso fall over the edge to get closer to him, “Nice to meet you, Lena. My name is Peter.”

She had been right. The name suited her, better than any of the others that he had said that day. When he googled the name that night, it was no surprise to him to discover that her name meant “temptress” or “one who allures.” Allure was one word for it, that was for sure. That impenetrable force was what brought Peter to the Avenger’s complex every evening. They had this connection, and every time he tried to describe it to Ned, he fell short on the words. Ned used the word soulmate, Peter insisted he didn’t see her like that.

He didn’t know if he _didn’t_ or if he _didn’t want to_. She was obnoxiously gorgeous, and it would be easy to see her like that, but for the sake of her rehabilitation, he didn’t want his feelings getting in the way. Those stupid, teenage feelings were absolutely vexatious.

He found himself needing to spend extra time on patrol. He left early, checked in with May, and leaped out the window to swing through town. He always found solace in the feeling of swinging from building to building. It was a clarity that he needed, especially after spending so much time around a girl who could hypnotize him by the sound of her voice.

Incoming _call from Tony Stark._

Mr. Stark never called unless it was absolutely necessary. While they had grown closer through the existence of Lena, it wasn’t the type of relationship where Peter felt like he could call whenever he needed to. Some days he spent hours in the lab without seeing Mr. Stark once. He knew that had to be regarding something important.

“Hey Mr. Stark!” he yelled, the wind was whistling in his ears.

“Peter, does she have a name now?”

Peter didn’t say anything, not knowing if Mr. Stark was proud or annoyed.

“She just introduced herself to me, so I’m assuming that would be a yes.”

“Listen it wasn’t even my idea I just helped out and actually it sort of fits her, you know? The Latin meaning of Lena is ‘temptress’ and well you know that-”

“Yeah, I know. I like it. Good work.”

Peter stopped swinging, hanging onto the side of a hotel window. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see a set of kids rush over, trying to get his attention. He wiggled his fingers to wave and jumped to the roof, wanting to hear his mentor a bit more clearly.

“Wait, really?”

“I mean, it’s better than calling her the siren or the mermaid. She’s an individual just like you and I. Obviously she has a soul. If she doesn’t we’re both fucked. Anyways, I have to go. Good talk.”

_Call ended._

There were moments like this that continuously popped up in Peter’s life. When Mr. Stark first came to his apartment, when he got his suit back, when he specifically asked Peter to join his project, it all gave Peter a sense of pride. He felt a warmth in his chest that made him want to leap for joy. He jumped, pumping a fist in the air and hoping no one could see him doing a victory dance.

Then he did leap for joy, off the edge of the hotel and into the city of Queens.


	8. Chapter 8

_Lena Lena Lena Lena._

The name was the only word she was capable of thinking after Peter left. She liked the name. It gave her an identity of her own, but it was strange that she could form a better sense of herself with something as measly as a label. Additionally, she loved that Peter had helped her pick it out, and even though It had taken over 300 attempts, they eventually reached a consensus. It put a light feeling in her chest. She was getting close to happiness.

A scientist that was not Peter came in every day. She asked Lena questions limited to yes and no answers, as that was all Lena could verbally answer. If she had wanted, she could implant her words into the scientist’s mind, but it took much more effort for someone that she did not have a connection with. Peter was her _peirasmós_. The channel between them was much more easily navigated than one with a total stranger.

Mr. Stark, the name that the man with the odd facial hair had, also had a speech therapist try and assist her with the first skill she had started to develop. It was her least favorite part of the day, as being told what to do was deeply irritating. No matter how many times she said any word she was given, it only felt like it got increasingly difficult.

Except for when she was with Peter.

With him, everything felt easier. He encouraged her in the way she needed, and in a way that was effective, rather than in a way that was condescending and annoying. Lena felt as if she had someone on her side. With the professionals, she knew that they were only there because Mr. Stark hired them. The progress she made with him was miles difference. He had a way of poking through her stubbornness that the scientists could not penetrate.

It made her wonder what her purpose in Mr. Stark’s home served. She did not provide anything for Mr. Stark. There was no benefit to her presence. She was grateful that they had chosen to trust her, but it remained a mystery as to why.

A few days after Peter had helped named her, he took a day of his weekend to spend with her. She knew it was a weekend as he arrived in the morning instead of later in the afternoon.

The human construct of time was an interesting concept for her to grasp, but like most things, she had been catching on quickly. She discovered that she was a fast learner, it only took one or two explanations of these innate human concepts until she pretty much had them practically memorized.

It was a rare occasion where he was able to spend more than a few hours with her and in the past few months, there had been twice when he took a day of his weekend to dedicate to her. It was an extra blessing. A surprise. He already spent every weekday with her, but being able to spend over 12 hours talking and learning new words boosted her morale for the upcoming week.

She hummed a light melody while waiting for Peter, but her impatience was already growing. A fleeting thought crossed her mind. It was an idea that had continuously sat in the back of her head, but she had never had the energy to go through with it. The anticipation of waiting for Peter was getting the best of her, and if he didn’t arrive soon, she would be doing the last thing anyone expected.

After a few more minutes, she was tired and bored of waiting, so she made the leap.

She swam to the bottom of her tank and into the farthest back corner. Shutting her eyes and peering up through the water, she swam forward as hard she could and propelled herself forward and up. Her arms exited first, followed by the rest of her body, and landed vigorously on the hard ground, rolling a few feet before coming to a painful stop. It left the upper part of her tail sore, and her entire body cold.

Conveniently, that was the precise moment that Peter decided to walk through the door. They made eye contact and she smiled a helpless smile, unsure of what his reaction was going to be.

“What- what are you doing?” his facial expression remain puzzled as he rushed over to her. She could feel her tail drying, and the lack of moisture would turn them into the same limbs that Peter had. Her sisters had always forbidden her from doing this, the rope was an extra precaution, but now she was no longer under their jurisdiction.

“Are you able to survive outside of the water?” Peter looked incredibly perplexed. 

She nodded, smiling wider. However, as the tail started to dissipate, the rope burned her skin. She heaved over in pain and gestured at them, barely able to say the word, “Sharp!”

He looked down at where she gesturing and rose to action, knowing what she needed. He stumbled around the lab, pulling open random drawers, shuffling through them, and moving on to a different one when he could not find anything. He stopped after pulling a switchblade from a drawer, murmuring something about not knowing why Mr. Stark would have one of these.

The tail had morphed into two pale, skinny legs, painfully pressed up against the rope binding them together. Peter gently slid the knife between them and sawed upwards. It took a minute, but the rope eventually snapped, revealing a deep indented scar from the years of tightly rubbing against her tail. She had not realized that she had grown used to the pain. She was numb to it.

After he had done the same on her ankles, he tore off the plaid overshirt he was wearing and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was an instant reminder of the human modesty rules that she was extremely unaccustomed to. Humans walked around in clothes that covered specifically all reproductive organs on the body, which was strange to her, but if it was what she had to do to be easily integrated into human life, she would follow the odd rules.

Peter brushed her hair out of her face and let his hand rest on her cheek for a moment, laughing. The way his touch felt was like home. Her only other home was a place she never wanted to return to, but now she had this boy who somehow felt even better than the Atlantic ocean.

He jogged out of the room, most likely to find her some more clothes. So she sat, legs pulled to her chest, shivering underneath Peter’s shirt. She leaned over to her left side, examining the bottom half of her brand new legs. Taking her index finger, she traced the side of them, the texture being unfamiliar. She had skin on her arms, but the skin that replaced her scales differed. It was more coarse and thick, with soft blonde hair follicles protecting it.

He came back with a woman, someone Lena had never seen before.

“Can she stand?” the woman asked, looking slightly concerned. She was holding a pile of folded clothes in her hands. Lena shook her head. She had seen the way that they walked upright, and it was a milestone that was miles away.

The woman sighed, “All right. Peter, I’m going to get her dressed, you go tell Tony what the deal is.”

“Yeah, of course, Miss Potts.”

There was something about Miss Potts that made Lena nervous. She had a disapproving glare permanently plastered on her face, but she helped the small girl get dressed nonetheless. It was a struggle and awkward series of pushes and pulls, but eventually, she was fully dressed, and Miss Potts had lost her breath.

She invited Peter back in, “Take her to Steve’s old room. Lord knows he’s not coming back,” she pursed her lips, “Then we’ll figure out physical therapy later. I’ve got too much on my plate to handle this.”

“Thank you for all of your help, Miss Potts. I know you’re a very busy lady and-”

“Don’t worry about it, Peter,” she sighed and left, appearing to leave a trail of steam behind her. She was scooped up, her head resting on his shoulder blade. It was the first time she had seen anywhere outside of the lab, and all of a sudden the world felt a lot larger than she had anticipated, and that was just the inside of Mr. Stark’s home.

After walking up a few flights of stairs, Peter walked into a room with various sets of furniture and set her down on a soft structure.

“I guess this means a lot of new words, huh?” Peter sat next to her, “Below you, this is a bed. This room? A bedroom. Does that make sense?”

She mentally took note of each word. The bed was what she was sitting on. The bed was inside the room. The room was called a bedroom. She nodded at him.

“Great. Can you say them out loud?”

She released the air in her lungs.

“I know that you don’t want to, but I also know you can,” he looked down, searching for eye contact.

“Bed.”

“Good one. You know half of the second word now.”

“Bedr-room,” she liked the way her lips wrapped around the letter ‘M.’

“Good! Hey good job!” he lifted his hand, spreading his fingers out as if he wanted something from her. She furrowed her eyebrows.

“Oh. Yeah. Uh, this is called a high-five. We can...we can go over that one later.”


	9. Chapter 9

There she sat, next to him, looking completely human. Not even a second glance could hint at the idea that she was a siren. Miss Potts had dressed her in a pair of white linen pants, and an identical long sleeve shirt, and she looked like a middle-aged dad that just got back from the beach. It suited her, though. As she repeated back to him the new words, he pulled her hair out from underneath the shirt. It was damp, but drying, and fell long into a pool on her thighs, the longest hair he had ever seen.

She examined the way the clothes hung on her body with wonder. He could tell by the slight twinge in her eyes that she didn’t especially like them. She looked at him and frowned, slumping into the bed so that the upper half of her body was slowly sliding down the wall.

“Oh, you’ll get over it,” he laughed.

_I feel like I’m in a cage. Humans and their modesty rules are absolutely puzzling._

She was well-spoken. When she had the capability to verbalize her thoughts, she would be fiercely intelligent.

He continued to point other objects out in the room, making her repeat them back to him. She was a fast learner, and it made him wonder if that was a part of the siren half of her. She had learned how to understand English in a little under a month and expanded her mental vocabulary further than even some of the kids at his school could attest to.

She looked small and helpless, hugging her knees to her chest. He knew that with the proper education, she could be far from helpless. She was strong, willful, and most of all, determined. While his endless drills obviously got on her nerves, she pushed through them. She knew what her goal was. Although he didn’t. She was adapting to human life, he just had no idea why.

Peter stood, “All right, let’s go see if Mr. Stark is ready for the new update.”

He hadn’t wanted to get Mr. Stark initially due to the fact that he needed a woman to dress Lena. Now that she was dressed, had spoken a few new words, and didn’t look completely mortified, he assumed it would be an okay time to show off her new legs. Peter’s new discovery. Another piece to add to the puzzle.

She faltered, looking at the ground, her eyes tracing how Peter was standing. Carefully, she placed her feet down for hardly a second before shaking her head and recoiling her shins back into the safety of her arms. Peter laughed nervously, slightly confused as to what was going on.

Then it hit him. She had never stood. Standing and walking would be another thing that she would have to learn, all on top of language and basic human functions. He let the back of his knuckle graze her tense fingers, attempting to be some kind of comforting, but they ended up flinching at a menial spark that popped when their skin touched. It hadn’t been an electric shock, but it had grabbed his attention.

He quickly tried to roll it off and refocused on helping his _friend_.

“Hey. I get it. Baby steps though, right?”

The way she furrowed her eyebrows when she was confused was getting familiar. He laughed again. Hopefully there would be a time when she could grasp figures of speech.

“Let’s start by taking my hands,” he held out his palms for her to take, “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

The confused furrow in her brow transformed into concern. She was nervous.

“Lena, you can trust me,” he whispered it softly. Loud noises had their habit of startling her. By whispering, he was signifying her safety, “I’m strong, remember? Spider bite. I won’t let you fall.”

One quivering hand found its place in Peter’s, and the other promptly followed. He engaged his arms, pulling her upright, allowing his senses to be wary of any misplaced balance. Every inch of her body was accounted for, and he was ready to catch her if she showed even a slight sign of toppling over. Peter was no physical therapist, but he wanted nothing more than to assist her in her first steps.

“Do you feel your feet on the ground? Let them rock. Put weight on every inch of them. They’re your foundation, and while sometimes they don’t always prevent you from tripping and falling, they’re going to do the most to keep you upright.”

He watched her feet as they wobbled. She was doing what he asked. Her silver eyes were scattered, trying to grasp onto something solid, but when you step into something unknown, that could feel impossible. She locked her stare on her unstable feet that were still exploring the floor beneath. Peter inched his hands upwards, finding a place gripping on her forearms. He squeezed her arm to let her know he was letting go for a moment and lightly lifted her chin to meet his eyes. Nodding, he returned his hand to her forearm. She was shaking under his grip.

Her legs were shaking vigorously, which brought Peter to take a mental note. In a way, they were going to need to rewire her brain so that she was used to engaging those muscles. For now, standing would be enough. It wasn’t much, but it was progress enough.

He sensed a switch in her balance and caught her below the waist before she could pitch forward. They paused a moment, her arms clasped around his neck, their faces inches away from each other.

“Thank you,” she said and finished the sentence in his mind, _for catching me._

“You think I would let you fall?” A subtle smile graced their lips.

…

When Peter arrived home for dinner, he wasn’t surprised to find Aunt May hadn’t gotten off work yet, but she had left some cash to buy a pizza. He placed the order online and clicked the TV on for some background noise, pulling out his journal to fill out the entry for that day.

The moleskine that Mr. Stark had bought him was almost filled by now, each page describing his time with Lena in extensive detail. Some days during lunch he described to MJ what she looked like under the alias that it was for a novel idea he was brainstorming. Ned was the only one who knew about his latest project under the Stark Internship, and Peter planned on keeping it that way until further notice. That was all under Mr. Stark’s jurisdiction, anyhow.

_Feb 2_

_Today has been the most eventful since we picked out Lena’s name. I arrived at the lab to discover she had launched her way out of her tank. A key observation I made was that of the metamorphosis that her tail went through. Most likely due to evolution, her tail seemed to melt away, dissolve into a set of human limbs. She looked purely human. The closest comparison I can think of is how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly. Even so, the transformation was incredibly faster._

_Verbal skills continue to improve on an upward slope. Since she is now sleeping in a bedroom I gave her the basic vocabulary. It seems as if once she hears a word and pronounces it, she is able to learn and keep it in her archive. Her speedy learning skills are something I envy._

_She doesn’t know how to walk, which I also found fascinating. She has never had a need to walk, as her ‘sisters’ forbid her from ever even attempting it. Since she trusts me, I was able to get her on her feet and standing for about a minute before she collapsed. I spoke with Mr. Stark briefly before heading home, and he assured me that he would be hiring a physical therapist to help move her mobility along._

_I felt a spark when our hands briefly touched. I’m not sure what that was about._

_-P_


	10. Chapter 10

Lena hated her physical therapist.

Optimism had been the word Peter used. The doctor was always looking on the brighter side of a situation. Dr. Blythe had a high pitched voice as if it always ended in exclamation points. That was another comment that Peter made, and Lena had no idea what an exclamation point was until he had shown her. The vertical line with a dot below it somehow was a perfect description of the doctor that she woke up to every morning.

Now that she was outside of her tank, Mr. Stark informed her that if she wanted to stay living in his care, she would need to follow a specific and carefully laid out schedule.

In the morning she would see Dr. Blythe. They did various exercises on large machines that, according to the doctor, strengthened her leg muscles and taught her brain how to use them. She stubbornly submitted to everything Dr. Blythe asked her to do, but not without scrunching her face and rolling her eyes. At the end of each session was an attempt to stand on her own. She stood, leaning on sets of bars to keep herself upright. The only motivation she had was hearing the number of seconds she could stand on her own gradually grow larger every day.

After a week of working with Dr. Blythe, she was able to maneuver her way around Mr. Stark’s “Avenger Compound” with what everyone called “crutches.” They acted as legs, hurt the undersides of her arms but still, it was better than sitting idly in her room.

In the afternoon she would see Doctor Loud, a stern woman with what she called a “Pea Ayche Dee” in speech pathology. Lena did not know the significance behind this statement, but every time she rolled her eyes, Dr. Loud reminded her of the pea ayche dee, which only made Lena want to roll her eyes again. They spoke sentences, words, made sounds with her lips, stretched her lips, everything involving her mouth and throat she could think of was used during the hour they spent together. It took everything in her not to trance Dr. Loud into falling asleep so she could escape and find something more entertaining to do.

After Dr. Loud was Dr. Green, a biologist who practically poked at her all day. Blood sample after blood sample was extracted from her, swabs from her saliva, recordings of her singing voice, and videos and images of her tail turning into legs. It was her least favorite part of the day. Mr. Stark seemed displeased with the experimentation as well, but reminded Lena,

“Only one hour per workday, that’s all I allow him. I don’t want you to think you’re some kind of creature we’re keeping for observation. You live here now. We want you to become Peter’s partner.”

In between the time she spent with Dr. Green and when Peter arrived at the compound, she sat on her bed and spoke to the voice in her room. Her name was PET, and Mr. Stark had said that any question she asked, PET would have the answer to. This “Artificial Intelligence” was programmed specifically for Lena’s needs, all according to Mr. Stark. So she sat and asked questions for hours.

“What is ‘cell phone?’”

_A cell phone is very similar to the telephone. It is carried in pockets by most human citizens._

“What is ‘telephone?’”

_As we went over yesterday, the telephone is a device used by humans to communicate with each other when they are not nearby._

“What is ‘partner’”

_A partner is someone who is equal to you. It is a pair of people who support each other for specific needs._

Mr. Stark wanted Lena to become Peter’s partner. Eventually, she was going to be his equal. Lena knew that she had no clue what the extent of this meant, that she was still in the early stages of rehabilitation, but her progress must have been good enough that she would potentially catch up to where Peter was. She smiled to herself, lying down backward on the bed.

Sleep. She hated to sleep, but Mr. Stark had insisted that it was essential to carrying a human body. Deep in the ocean, she was able to obtain energy through the chemical makeup of the water she swam in. Something in it gave her the same energy that food and sleep did for humans, or so Mr. Stark and Dr. Green had told her. She slept for a maximum of two hours every night and used the rest of the time to ask questions.

Hunger had also irked her as well. The first time she ever felt hunger, she had complained to Peter, panicked. She thought something was wrong. It took them an hour of examination to discover that she hadn’t eaten in the 24 hours since Peter had taken her from the tank to the bed and that this human body needed food to make that stomach ache go away. While she ate in the kitchen, Mr. Stark queued what they called a “Television Show” for her to watch. It was called Planet Earth, and she could watch the deep sea version over and over, just to relish in what used to be her home.

...

“What is Avenger?”

_Before the Sokovia Accords, there were eight active members of the Avengers Team. Tony Stark, known as Iron Man, was the supposed leader of the group. Steve Rogers, known as Captain America, was a super soldier created by the government in 1941…_

PET blabbed on and on about the group, and ended with,

_Before the group split up in 2016, they were Earth’s mightiest heroes._

“Why are you asking about the Avengers?” she hadn’t heard Peter walk in. She bolted upright, locking eyes with him. His voice sounded defensive and accusatory as if she was hiding something. That wasn’t her intent, so she answered honestly.

“I did not know.”

“You didn’t know what they were?” he had gotten better at deciphering what she actually was trying to say, but Lena also attributed that to their _peirasmós_ connection. Somewhere in the intricate outline of his brain he always knew what she wanted to tell him. What he did not know, was what she was hiding from him.

“Yes.”

He moved from the frame of the door to the foot of her bed, where he folded his hands, “Sorry, that seemed a little harsh,” he rubbed the side of his face, “I don’t even know why. Touchy subject, I guess. I almost became one, until I didn’t.”

She placed a soft hand on his, a spark jerking both of their hands away from each other. His eyebrows twitched, probably a curiosity building inside him, but she was far from a place where she could explain the mini shock that accompanied their hands coming into contact. The truth behind it was too much for him to handle. She felt as if she could never see a day where he would know. It put an ache in her stomach that was far worse than hunger.

“Happy to see you,” she wanted to bring his mood up if she could. She hadn’t meant to bring it down.

“I’m happy to see you too. How was today?” he let the tension in his shoulders fall as he scooted back to lean against the wall. She scrunched her nose.

“How about a word to describe it?”

She rolled her eyes, but not in the same way she would with her trio of doctors, she had to suppress a smile along with it, “Long. I am tired.”

“That’s normal. Hey, can I ask you something?” The question took her off guard. It was an utterly human quirk to ask permission to ask a question. If she had the ability, she would have responded with sarcasm (something that she had picked up on from Mr. Stark and had asked PET about a while ago), but she could not verbalize it.

“Yes.”

“I keep dreaming about your parents...it’s been every night since we met. Why?”

Lena felt her jaw lock and her teeth clench. She knew that if she hadn’t been thinking about it, he probably would not have brought it up, but she had been pondering the idea of telling him, and now it was out in the air. The truthful answer was because of their bond. All she could think about was her _peirasmós_ and the fact that she was following in parallel to her mother. It was raging anxiety that never seemed to calm.

“I cannot.”

“You- what?”

She shook her head.

Now was not the time to tell him.

Peter shifted his seating on her bed so they were facing each other, “Do you not know or…” he was searching her for answers. She bit down on her tongue, hard. One day she would tell him. When she had the words to describe what he meant to her, how much she loved him, she would use them. She would cry and tell him that she could never return to the sea, all because she wanted to be with him.

Hopefully, he would want to be with her too.

For now, she shut her eyes and bit her tongue until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, which she swallowed uncomfortably. Peter sighed and deflated, giving up. She just hoped he was not giving up for good.

He would know eventually, just not right now.


	11. Chapter 11

Every night Peter had been dreaming of Lena’s parents, so much so that it was starting to become a plague. He knew the story of how she was conceived by heart. Each siren has one human person they fall in love with, and their right of passage is to kill that person. Her mother gave in to the temptation, became pregnant with Lena, and both of her parents were murdered for it, banishing their daughter to live in practical exile. A life of abuse.

He was grateful he and Mr. Stark had found her when they did. Before she had to potentially kill someone she was in love with.

When he had asked her why the answer seemed to be on the tip of her tongue. She was on the verge of saying it, but something was stopping her. It easily could have been the lack of words to explain, but she had the complete ability to speak inside his mind when speaking aloud failed her. The only viable reason for withholding the answer would be because she didn’t want to say it.

He had always been truthful with her, so it was slightly disappointing to feel the thick silence and watch as her head shook back and forth.

“All right, I won’t push you.”

“I am sorry.”

“No don’t apologize!” he almost leaped on the phrase, not wanting her to think he was upset with her. He already had done that when he entered the room.

Mr. Stark strolled in at the right time, saving him from digging a larger hole. His mentor looked surprised but pleased to see him.

“The door was open, so I assumed it was safe to walk in,” Mr. Stark straightened out his suit and leaned against the wall arms crossed. “You two are awful close, huh? Enjoy each other’s company?”

Peter looked over at Lena, who had done the same, they smiled at each other, a slight flush of color coming to her cheeks. “Yeah, we do. I always look forward to-”

“Great! That’s great!” Mr. Stark looked enthused, “Your progress is steady, Lena. Starting tomorrow we are cutting your physical therapy in half, and ending your sessions with Dr. Green completely. I’ve set up a tutor. And if you learn as quickly with her as you do with everything else, you should be ready for Midtown Tech a month from now.”

Mr. Stark turned as if he was leaving, but Peter quickly spoke up, “M-Mr. Stark what do you mean?”

“Oh,” he turned around, “I talked to Pep...her sister has died tragically, leaving her only daughter in our care. I’ve registered her to go to school with my intern, Peter Parker.”

“Does Miss Potts have a sis-”

“She died tragically, so not anymore. But Peter, I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to show Lena Potts around Midtown, introduce her to your friends and such,” Mr. Stark smiled and winked at Peter, his eyes twinkling in the light.

After Mr. Stark had left, Lena placed her hand beneath Peter’s chin and shut his gaping mouth. Of all the things he could have come in and announced, that had been the last thing either of them expected. He returned his glance to his friend, letting air expel from his lungs and laughing a bit. Mr. Stark had some plan, as usual, that Peter could never know the full picture of.

“It’ll be nice to spend more time with you, that’s for sure,” he said, leaning against the wall again.

Lena’s look of amusement turned into her usual look of confusion, “School?” She finished her thought inside his head, _I have not even ventured outside of this place. How am I supposed to pretend to be human?_

He saw that tears were falling down her face, and he sat up, taking her hands in his and ignoring the jolt that came along with it, “Don’t cry, you’ll be okay! You’ll have me, remember?”

She only cried harder, a panic appearing to set in. Somehow Peter could feel precisely the stir of alarm that sat in her heart.

_What is this? Why is there an expulsion of water coming out of my eyes? Peter help! What is going on?_

The more words that filled his brain, the more panicked they became and the more tears fell out of Lena’s eyes. He took her face in his hands, softly, forcing her to find his eyes. She was on the verge of hyperventilating, her inhales gradually getting quicker and quicker.

“Crying is a normal human response to stress. Nothing’s wrong with you!” he wiped the tears, keeping eye contact, “Breathe with me, Lena, you’re fine!”

He inhaled audibly, making an ‘o’ shape with his lips, nodding with encouragement. Her breathing slowed as well as the tears, but he could feel her shaking. Hardly thinking about it, he planted a kiss on her forehead and wrapped her in his arms, holding her tightly. Somewhere online he had read that tight physical contact can calm anxiety. So he held her until it passed, rocking back and forth, letting her shake and breathe.

“You’re going to be fine, Lena, you’re half human. You don’t have to pretend to be anything.”

Her shaking had slowed, but the sound of his voice brought it to a stop. She sat upright, using the back of her hand to wipe tears out of her eyes.

“You’ll be okay. You have me. You’re stuck with me now.”

…

“Karen text Aunt May for me.”

_Sure thing, Peter. What would you like it to say?_

“‘Mr. Stark needs extra help with our project tonight, so I’ll be staying the night’” he stopped to think, knowing that it probably wasn’t great that he was texting so last minute, “and uh… ‘I’m sorry for the short notice. Things have been pretty busy over here. A good busy. Mr. Stark is giving me lots of new opportunities.’”

_Text sent to May Parker._

Truth be told, Peter didn’t want to make Lena stay in her room alone after having her first ever mental breakdown. He hadn’t even asked Mr. Stark if it was all right, but he figured it would be. He had mentioned before that he was always welcome, Peter just never had the guts to take him up on the offer, until now. It was important to him that she was all right.

She had moved off the bed, not having spoken to him since she leveled out. She had taken to the window, pensively leaning against it. Not in the dramatic movie sense, but instead her entire body was flat against the window, which stretched the length of the wall, tilted at a slight angle. Her arms were extended above her head, almost at a spread eagle if it weren’t for a slight bend.

He peeled the mask off of his face and lingered over to her, falling onto the glass next to her.

_Human emotions are complicated._

“Tell me about it.” The city was visible in the distance, beneath them was the remainder of the Avengers Compound, a majority of which Peter had never been to. One day he would.

“I…” she spoke out loud now, “want. A...pool.”

“I can get you a pool,” it was Mr. Stark’s voice again, “You left the door open. I was just passing by when I heard you.”

They both turned around, Mr. Stark had a coy look on his face, but his sunglasses masked any actual thoughts that might be showing through his eyes. A mask didn’t always hide an identity.

“Mr. Stark is it okay if-”

“I can get you a pool if you work your hardest at everything we throw at you, and pass the entrance exam for Midtown. Then you can design your own pool, and use it as much as you like,” Mr. Stark turned to leave again, “Yeah Peter, you can stay the night. But this bedroom door stays open.”


	12. Chapter 12

_You don’t have to pretend to be anything._

Lena took a bath every other day. The concept of the shower seemed convenient for one who was able to stand upright, but it was not practical for her condition. Her standing capabilities were limited to a few seconds to a few minutes, and the contact of water on her skin would transform her legs into a tail, anyhow. It was easier for her to clean herself by sitting down.

She rolled out of the tub, using as much upper body strength as she had to make the impact of the ground gentle. There was no other way to get out without the assistance of someone else, and she wanted to start doing things on her own. She laid flat for a moment before making use of the towel she had set for herself, drying off her tail first to get access to her legs back. Standing, using the tub to keep herself stable, she tied a white, plush robe around her tiny body and lurched towards her crutches, catching herself just in time.

Peter was waiting for her when she got back to her room, twiddling his thumbs on the small square device Lena had come to know as ‘cell phone.’ Without thinking twice about it, she undid the robe to change into the shin length t-shirt that she usually slept in.

“Oh - shit - maybe tell me next time - ah,” Peter was shuffling behind her, and when she turned around she saw that his hands were covering his eyes.

_Humans and their modesty rules._

“I know you aren’t used to them, but I am, and you don’t have to like them, but you have to follow them.”

She pulled her tangled, wet hair out from underneath the shirt and pulled it over her shoulder. It was in its usual, tangled mess. It was not thick and curly like the hair of Dr. Loud, but it took her a solid hour to get through every knot that formed. She grabbed a brush from the drawer in her desk and sat down on the bed, letting a large exhale out before starting with the ends.

“Do you want me to do it?”

She looked over at Peter who was holding out his hand.

“Sit on the floor, I’ll do it.”

Placing the brush in his hand, she slid to Peter’s feet, sitting in between his knees. He pulled her hair so that it was sitting above her. He was purposefully delicate with the entanglement of blonde hair, and he treated it almost as if he had done this before.

They spoke quietly to each other as he made his way from the bottom towards the top. It was simple conversation, sometimes she would ask questions about him, and sometimes it was the other way around. Whatever she was unable to say she finished inside his head, and she appreciated his patience when she struggled through a word.

She liked the feeling of someone else brushing through her hair. For a moment she shut her eyes, letting the tug of her scalp sooth her into slight exhaustion. She did not tire easily and found the concept of sleep boring, so she took every opportunity to be lulled. While she had been in the shower, Peter had assembled an air mattress for himself to sleep on towards the back of the room by the window. It would be nice to have someone sleeping in the same room as her. There were times where spending time at the compound felt isolating.

At 10 PM he finished, helping her up and into her bed. She shut her eyes, feeling much more relaxed than she was used to. Maybe she could stay asleep for four hours rather than two.

“Goodnight, Lena.”

“Goodnight, Peter.”

The deepest of sleep comes with the most vivid dreams.

Or nightmares.

_She was swimming in the open water, tail bound as it once was. As she swam she circled many of the fish that had come to love her. The gentle fish swam around her tail in circles, nipping the ends lovingly. She treated the underwater creatures with kindness, unlike her sisters. Her sisters looked upon themselves as superior and dismissed any other presence._

_She swam deeper, not seeing any of her sisters. It was rare for her to swim this far down. She suffered enough from the endless voices inside her head, reminding her of the plague her existence brought to their species. Every second of every day without rest._

_You are worthless._

_You mean nothing._

_You are the offspring of betrayal._

_She had not heard these voices since Mr. Stark plucked her from the ocean. A tug, from nowhere yanked her left arm down, and shortly after her right. She struggled, but the forces were too strong. The evil faces of her sisters immediately followed, their incisors bearing, threatening to tear out her neck._

_You have betrayed us as your mother once did._

_You have fulfilled your destiny as a traitor._

_You and your_ peirasmós _will be executed for your insolence._

_Her hair was ripped backward, exposing her neck, and when she looked up she saw the vague form of Peter, struggling against the arms of her sisters pulling him closer and closer. His lungs do not have the capacity to-_

_She felt a ripping pain in her chest, and-_

-awoke screaming.

Gut-wrenching screams that felt as if her vocal cords were being shredded. Everything had felt so vivid, so tangible, that while she was suspended in her own noise, she was unsure of what was real and what she had seen in her sleep.

Arms wrapped around her, tightly, as they had done before, this time from behind. She knew it was him, as the tears cleared her vision, as she touched base with her actual location. Beneath her was her bed, and around her was Peter, her _peirasmós_ , and she was not actually dying. She gasped for air, bringing her hands to Peter’s forearm, letting the back of her head fall against his chest.

“You’re here with me, Lena, you never have to see your sisters again. I won’t let them touch you.”

“Peter…” she stifled a sob. There had been enough crying that evening, she was through with it, _They were going to kill us. If they find us they will kill us._

“I’m not going to let that happen,” he kissed the back of her head, “PET, can you project the highest viewed videos of Spider-Man for me?”

Of course. On window, an image appeared, Peter in his red clothing swung from building to building, stopping cars from colliding, shoving people out of the way, fighting men that were dressed in all black masks. A smile came to her face, and she sniffed back the congestion in her nose. Watching him fight a set of enemies, and succeed, suddenly made her feel even more safe with Peter than she already had.

 _Partner_.

Maybe eventually, she could fight by his side.


	13. Chapter 13

They fell asleep watching an endless loop of YouTube videos, superheroes upon superheroes from the perspective of an onlooking civilian. Peter drifted off only after she did. He was going to return to the air mattress, but by the time Lena had finally fallen back asleep, he felt that any sudden movement might jerk her awake. So he laid his head back on her pillow, her head sitting on his left shoulder blade.

Laying next to her made his dreams empty. He wasn’t forced to watch the same replay of Lena’s parents falling in love and being murdered. For once, waking up to his alarm at 6 in the morning felt like a chore. The apple ringtone dragged him awake rather than being something he waited for.

When he opened his eyes, she wasn’t next to him. He found her in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, her hair lightly tousled, almost longer than-

He snapped his eyes back up to the mirror, blinking as hard as he could.

She opened the drawer and handed Peter a toothbrush, probably a spare that Mr. Stark had provided. Peter noticed that she put a lot of weight on her arm, almost falling as she handed Peter the toothbrush.

“Hey you’re getting better at standing,” he said, a little awkwardly, putting toothpaste onto his brush. She didn’t respond, not even in his head, just continued to brush, spit, and crutch her way back into the bedroom.

“Everything all right?” his voice was muffled from the toothpaste, which he spat out, “Are you okay?”

_Nightmares. A little…_

“Shaken up?”

 _Sure_.

Peter didn’t have to be at school until eight, but he usually woke up at six to account for the subway. It took him a moment to realize that he would most likely be returning to school in the same clothes he had left in, which would either go unnoticed or be dramatically projected by Flash Thompson. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, wondering if taking off the blue flannel shirt and wearing just a t-shirt would look less like he hadn’t changed at all.

As if she had been reading his mind, Lena crutched over, holding something in her hand. She handed him a black, crewneck sweatshirt, prompting him to take it. He smiled and pulled it over his head. The inside of it smelled like her shampoo.

Not that-

Not as if that was important or significant in any way. It was just a fact. He had had his head buried in her hair all night. He was bound to recognize the smell.

He said goodbye, wishing Lena good luck on her work that day, and closed the door to Mr. Stark’s car, watching as she disappeared in the rearview mirror. He heard Happy chuckle from the driver’s seat. Chuckle. He was unsure if he had even seen the man smile.

“Something funny, Mr. Happy?”

“Oh what? Nothing Peter. Nothing,” the hint of a smile was gone as soon as it had appeared. Peter, still exhausted from staying up so late, rolled his eyes and shut up, leaning his head against the window to possibly catch up on some sleep, allowing the Beatles to take him to dreamland. He woke up to Happy saying his name in a dull but aggressive voice. His eyes drooped open to the unfortunate doors of Midtown Tech, where he rolled his eyes once more, thanked Happy, grabbed his bag, and walked up the steps to get to Calculus, pulling an earbud out of his ear in case someone tried to get his attention.

When he got into his first class, everyone was whispering, but it was blatantly loud. He didn’t think much of it initially, but when he sat down, the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He already could hear everyone in the room, but it was odd that his senses would warn him about some measly gossip that was going around. He pulled the remaining earbud out in an attempt to hear them a bit better.

“Yeah I heard Tony Stark has to do with-”

“Maybe Peter Parker knows-”

“No one knows if Parker has actually even met Tony Stark!”

“Anyways, Tony Stark knows why the ships are going missing and won’t tell the government-”

“No way!"

“Sounds just like Stark, to be honest.”

“Prime example of disappointed but not surprised.”

The people holding this discussion were all the way in the back of the classroom, and Peter sat in the front, so it would have been a terrible idea to ask them what they heard, but it ate him alive to know that it might be out soon that they knew mermaids existed. Mr. Stark had told Peter he was handling it, but he also wasn’t oblivious to the fact that the man could be a bit reckless with information. The memory of him saying ‘I am Iron Man’ flashed across his brain, and he felt his heart rate pick up.

The day, per usual, went by slowly, but the anxiety of the conversation he heard this morning stayed with him. By the time his lunch period arrived, he felt as if he had five shots of coffee in his system. He sat down in between Ned and MJ, sighing as he picked at the food on his lunch tray.

“Someone’s stressed,” MJ lifted a single eyebrow and met his eyes for a second before refocusing on her sketch.

“It’s...a long story,” Peter ran a hand through his hair and looked at her sketch, knowing what would take his mind off of the drama of the day, “Hey, MJ, would you mind doing another doodle for my novel?”

He saw a hint of a smile, “Yeah of course.”

“Yeah Peter _really_ loves the main character of his novel-”

“Shut up, Ned!” he looked over to find his best friend laughing, the familiar, goofy laugh as he exchanged a knowing glance. Ned had spent endless moments teasing Peter for having some form of a crush on Lena, but Peter always made sure he knew that it wasn’t the case. Because that was not the case.

Right?

“Peter,” MJ snapped him back into reality, “Drawing?”

He blinked a few times, in a similar way he did when he saw Lena this morning, and fished the moleskine notebook from his bag, opening it to a blank spread of pages and giving it to MJ, “Yeah, yeah. So She has legs now as we talked about last time, and uh...I kind of picture her standing, holding herself up with her arm. She can stand better than the last time, but she still needs to use the counter for support.”

He watched his friend use his words to create a basic outline of Lena, knowing already that she has a small frame, a tiny waist, and hair that barely goes past the end of her butt. MJ was a talented artist, and drew Lena almost perfectly without having seen her. A part of him felt bad that he couldn’t share a significant part of his life with one of his closest friends, but MJ still didn’t know that he was Spider-Man, which made keeping Lena from her a _little_ easier.

At least she would be coming to Midtown soon enough, so while MJ wouldn’t know the whole truth, she would get to meet another one of his best friends.

He was happy with how well he connected with the siren. He felt like he could tell her anything, and she actually cared about what he had to say. It wasn’t just because he knew she had no one to spill his secrets to, but she had a way of looking at him like she was hanging onto every word, and responding to him with care, letting him know it would be all right. That he always had her and she always had him.

MJ handed him his notebook and seeing the drawing instantly lifted his mood. She had drawn Lena so that she was looking through the mirror at the person that was standing behind her. Looking into those eyes, even though they were a sketch on a piece of paper, made his heart skip a beat.

“You better let me read this novel, Peter,” MJ scoffed and returned to her own sketch.

“I - uh - I don’t know.”

“Peter won’t even let me read the novel MJ,” Ned raised his eyebrows, his backhanded comment hitting Peter in the chest.

“We’ll see, you guys.”

…

Seventh period: Modern Politics.

Mr. Ellis strolled about the room, almost nervously when Peter sat down for class. It was a tense form of motion that he only had seen once before, during the election season two years ago. As students filed in, he didn’t say a word, which was very out of character for the normally wildly enthusiastic man.

The bell rang, and all attention turned to Ellis.

“So the first unit of this class was on the Sokovia Accords, but something has arisen that somewhat involves them. What was the main shock behind the Sokovia Accords?”

“That Tony Stark agreed with them,” a student didn’t even raise his hand before answering the question.

“Correct. Way back when Tony Stark first announced he was Iron Man, he claimed he was privatizing world peace, which in a way he was, but this deviant behavior brought people to think that the Avengers would follow in suit similarly.”

“Mr. Ellis I have a question.”

“Yes?”

“If we’ve already gone over this, why are we talking about it months later.”

“It has been discovered that Tony Stark knows vague information about the disappearance of the ocean liners back in November.”

A roar erupted in the classroom, solely out of the pure shock of it, all but for Peter. He looked at Ned, who also sat idly, already knowing the supposedly classified information. He tried to contain a laugh but practically failed, burying his face in his arms atop the desk. The class continued, Mr. Ellis discussing the similarities this presented to Tony Stark’s Iron Man reveal, what this could mean for both the families, and for Mr. Stark, and by the time the period was almost over, Peter had sweat buckets from nervously thinking about the possibility of Mr. Stark being sued. When final bell rang, he flew out the door, not paying attention to anyone that called after him.

_Text from Happy Hogan._

He flinched in surprise, unlocking his phone to find a single sentence.

_I’m waiting outside, boss needs you at home base as soon as possible._


	14. Chapter 14

The dreams had tired her out. It was a mental energy that she had run low on ever since she had arrived at the Avengers Compound. Before, she could put up a mental barrier with ease, but now that she was out of practice, the exhaustion from the dreams lingered, clinging to her body and filling it with an unsettling weariness. After hugging Peter goodbye, wishing that she did not have to let go, she watched the black car disappear into the horizon, before crutching her way back to the gym to get started on her physical therapy.

“I’m really not too happy about Mr. Stark cutting our time in half,” Dr. Blythe mumbled as she wandered through the door. He was sitting on his mobile footstool, tapping his finger on what he called an ‘iPad.’ S

he was particularly bored from the exercises that day, the boredom forcing time to pass like molasses. The image of her sisters reappeared every time she closed her eyes, tempting her to keel over in fear. It was not pleasant, and Dr. Blythe could blatantly see her apathy. 15 minutes before her shortened session was supposed to end, he let her go, saying that she did especially well that day, and he was feeling under the weather.

He had to explain to her that it meant he was feeling ill.

She stood for a record time of one whole minute, which put more of a positive spin on the horror of the previous night.

Dr. Loud did not show up to her appointment, calling in sick. Lena was not sure if this was a coincidence, but she would take any opportunity to get her out of the misery that was speech therapy. She wished that Mr. Stark had cut those sessions short rather than the physical therapy. An hour later, Lena had been working with her new tutor, Miss Gomez, when Peter arrived earlier than usual. She was used to his tedious schedule, which usually got him to the lab around 9PM, and had him leaving around 11PM. Seeing him at 4PM in the afternoon, even on a Friday, felt odd and out of place.

Ignoring whatever math problem she had been working on, Lena stood, walking over to him in three large strides, and almost collapsing into his arms. Three steps was the most she had taken on her own without help, so she took mental note of the small victory. Dr. Blythe would be happy to hear of it.

“Lena-” he caught her, only needing one arm around her waist to keep her steady, “Hey, how are you!”

“Miss Potts we really need to continue-” Miss Gomez had not moved from her seat at the table, looking slightly irritated that Lena had taken off so quickly.

“Why...are...you here? Now?” Lena asked, steadying her feet on the floor. She closed her hand around the upper part of Peter’s bicep, ignoring how firm it was, knowing that it meant that he was particularly strong.

“Something’s happened, Mr. Stark asked me-”

“Mr. Parker, Miss Potts, just the people I wanted to see,” Lena looked up to see that Mr. Stark had materialized behind Peter, his figure dressed in his usual suit and tinted sunglasses, and causing the boy to jump slightly out of surprise. She smirked.

Almost at the snap of Mr. Stark’s fingers, Lena was brought her crutches and guided into a large room with a circular table and chairs surrounding it. Men and women in suits sat, watching her every move. She felt their eyes on her, as if they knew everything about her.

Peter leaned over and whispered, “This is called a conference room.”

She nodded, watching as official-looking men and women took seats, all eyes still fixated on Lena, making her shake slightly. So many humans, with their feelings and judgements gave her the same feeling she had when Mr. Stark told her that she was going to school with Peter in a month. A petrifying feeling. The room suddenly felt much larger than it had when she had first walked in, her heart beat picking up its pace and a bead of sweat forming at her hairline. She felt Peter take her hand from the seat next to her, squeezing it as an act of encouragement.

“Hey kids,” Mr. Stark sounded somber, his voice low, “It somehow slipped out that I know what happened to the ships. Thank you, Mr. Rhodes, for that one.”

Mr. Stark looked to his left, shifting the blame to another somber looking man. She could tell based on their shared expressions that there was a history. Lena could sense the energy. When she focused hard enough, she saw the physical manifestations of the connections between two people. It glowed. She saw it between herself and Peter, and now she saw it between Mr. Rhodes and Mr. Stark. It was different, however; it glowed in a way best friends glowed amongst each other. This unique pair brought out the best of each other.

“Mr. Rhodes let it slip that I, Tony Stark, have knowledge of what happened to the 8 ships and the 64 people that have vanished. And I do. I know they’re dead. I know that there’s a species of siren that have killed them. And we have a solution to the public outrage that is on the brink of ensuing, but I need both of you to consent to this solution. Pepper take it away. ”

She heard Peter clench his teeth, his leg starting to bounce underneath the table. He heard the words _sales pitch_ flash across his mind.

“Spider-Man has become notorious for stopping neighborhood crime. Some tag him as a vigilante, others tag him as an honorary Avenger, either way, he has made a positive impact on the greater New York area,” Pepper was not only speaking to Lena and Peter, she spoke to the various adults sitting on the table, seeking their approval. Videos of Peter fighting crime behind her, all videos that she had seen late at night to calm her from her nightmares.

“That being said,” Pepper continued, “Lena’s unique power is not one we want to discard. With her permission, we want to put them to use. Tony has been working on a suit to fit her specific needs and caters to her abilities.” Behind Pepper was a tall blue curtain that opened to reveal a mannequin wearing a hero’s suit, similar to the gear she had seen on Peter, as well as variations of Mr. Stark. A set of goggles shielded the eyes, a thick band completely covering the ear. A wire was attached to the cheek, stopping right before the lips. She wore blue and white, a navy skin-tight suit reminiscent of the material Peter’s was made from, the elbows and knees covered in a white, hard shell that looked like-

“Speakers,” Mr. Stark saw where Lena’s eyes had been lingering. “The microphone attached to the goggles it meant to amplify your voice through the speakers on your elbows and knees. If you notice there’s temporary ankle and leg support, which will be removed as soon as your training is complete.”

“Training?” Lena was finally able to speak up. “If you agree to this proposal, following the completion of your rehabilitation will follow the start of your combat training,” Mr. Stark rested the side of his face in his palm, a relaxed manner that Pepper did not mirror.

Lena looked at Peter, meeting his brown eyes with a strong lack of confidence. It sent a large stirring to her stomach, which took off when she realized that all of the eyes in the room had returned to her, waiting on an answer.

“We would be partners,” Peter finally chimed in, starting to rub reassuring circles on the back of her hand. “A team.”

“Essentially yes,” Mr. Stark added. Lena still had no idea what to say.

“And why...why are we talking about this right now?” Peter was plucking the questions from her brain, giving her the voice that she did not have.

“Because we need to announce the existence of her species, and assure the general population that they pose no threat unless they are provoked,” Pepper explained, the steam that Leana noticed always seemed to follow her circling around her head.

Mr. Stark elaborated, “We were going to wait to announce this until after she was in school and fully adapted to human life but…”

“I messed that up,” Mr. Rhodes finished.

There were no words, not even words to conjure inside of her mind, that could articulate what she was feeling. She copied Peter’s nervous tick, bouncing her leg up and down at a vibrating speed.

“Yes,” it came out of her, as if someone else had said it. It was what she wanted, sure, but it was difficult to imagine a future that was months away. It was a future where she was able to fight crime alongside her best friend. Right now, the most she was capable of physically was standing for about 60 seconds. Partaking in combat was forever away.

The tension in the room released in a giant wave, a rush that stopped both of their legs from bouncing. People packed up their briefcases, and Lena was helped up from her seat.

“I need you two to suit up. We have a press conference waiting in the press room. All you two need to do is suit up, stand there, and look pretty,” Pepper was peeling the suit off of the mannequin and into a bag, handed to Lena.

 

Changing into the suit was awkward, and she felt rushed. She sat on the floor of her bedroom, yanking the material around her useless legs, pressing a button to fully fasten it. She examined the metal clasps intended for her ankles and thighs, almost identical to what she noticed Mr. Rhodes wore. They were temporary. Until she was able to move on her own.

Walking across the room for the first time was not near what she imagined it to be. It was faster than crutching, that was for sure, and while she knew that it would be different when it was on her own, she had anticipated more of a pride in herself. Even if it was the technology permitting her to mobilize.

Peter met her at the door frame. It was the first time she had seen him in the red suit since the day that he found her in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. He did not have his mask on, his face looking pale by the overwhelming news that continued to be pelted at them.

“Mr. Stark wanted me to give you this,” he held a small cube in his palm. “He called it nanotech? I’ve never even heard of that. But he said to put it on the back of your neck…” his train of thought trailed off, a quirk that Lena had picked up on a while ago.

She turned around, Peter gingerly moving her hair to the side and placing the cube at the base of her neck. There was a set of clicks, and her hair was no longer sitting on her back, but higher up. The roots of her hair follicles all converging at a singular point.

“High Ponytail. Like Ariana Grande. Nice!” Peter smiled, but Lena’s confusion only manifested, “Oh she’s a singer. She’s pretty, but not as pretty as you.”

It took a moment for him to realize what he had said, but she just smiled and fastened the goggles around her eyes, knowing that he had no reason to be shy; she reciprocated every feeling of adoration that he carried. He fumbled over words, stuttering to try and cover up his mistake, but his declaration was already stated, and all she did was press a single finger to his lips, take his hand, and motion for him to lead her where they needed to go.

_Welcome, Lena Potts._

She jumped, the voice in her ears recognizable, but unexpected.

“PET?” she said, out loud

“You all right?” she heard Peter’s voice behind her.

 _Hello, Lena. I’m here to assist all of your needs_.

Now she understood the purpose of the thick band on her goggles that covered and tightened her ears to her head. The microphone also allowed her to speak to her AI. There was not a single factor that Mr. Stark did not think of.

“Fine, thank you,” she turned to Peter and smiled.

 

She could hear dull voices speak behind a door. Mr. Stark had briefly warned her that as soon as anyone important walked through that door, the room would explode with intense voice and harsh questions. Reporters were not always nice people, they had one motive, and that was to get the best story for their news source.

Lena was starting to discover that there were different types of seas that were not strictly bound to the ocean. The sea of reporters shouting waves of questions as Mr. Stark walked in, herself and Peter following, was more violent than any storm she had been through in the Atlantic. She was lucky that her eyes were completely shielded, because they were wide with an overwhelmed shock. It was loud. It was far too loud. The voices of everyone in the room were filling her head with words, some of which she did not know the meaning of. She wanted to cover her ears, but Mr. Stark had specifically told her it was important to stay strong.

She knew it would be loud, but she did not know it would be this loud.

 _Lena_.

She heard his voice in her head. Amongst all the noise, Peter’s voice stood out. Her name. That was her name. She turned her head to him, and she could tell he was searching for her, trying to pull her out from this sea that she was somehow drowning in. She was able to breathe underwater, she was not supposed to be able to drown.

So she did what she knew best.

She sang.

Purposefully directing it at everyone in the room except Peter and Mr. Stark, she sang what she now knew was an ‘o’ vowel. The cameras dropped into laps, microphones fell, and lips closed as all eyes turned to her, hanging onto every note, until she released them, allowing the fog to remain in the air so that Mr. Stark was able to finally speak. He did not acknowledge the trance that she had put them in, just continued business as usual.

The reporters and photographers blinked as if they had just woken up from slumber, some more quickly than others. Some minds were more easily moldable, while others took a bit of an extra effort. It was one of the first things she had learned as a child, as she was introduced to luring sailors from their ships into the water.

Mr. Stark did his best to calmly explain the general concept of the seiren and how they planned to proceed with the situation. Changed trade routes, markers of the coordinates, Mr. Stark providing elaborate gifts for the families of the lives lost.

“I know that no amount of money or physical items can bring back your loved ones, but both The Siren and I wish to make it up in any way that we can. It is with great pleasure that we announce that Spider-Man will be accompanied by The Siren, a woman dedicated to keeping the people of New York safe, just as Spider-Man already does. All further questions will be directed to my fiance, and the only person keeping my life together, Pepper Potts.”

He placed one hand on Lena’s shoulder and the other on Peter’s as they were guided out through the door they came. When they were out of sight, Mr. Stark grabbed Lena’s other shoulder, and leaned down to her level.

“What the hell were you thinking?”


	15. Chapter 15

It was strange watching the room of reporters fall under her trance. He felt the wind, a strong brush washing across his ears and hitting every noisy reporter like a wall. She manipulated the speed of time passing in that room as every reporter failed at resisting the lure. Peter looked at Mr. Stark who looked right back at him, his eyes filled with panic. He had never seen the man scared before, but the control that Lena had was terrifying. I

t was a force to be reckoned with.

She set them free, the atmosphere returning to normal. nodding at Mr. Stark to continue what he was saying. It was deathly silent except for the heavy breathing of Pepper standing behind them. He could feel the tension rising both in her and Mr. Stark, they were just doing a phenomenal job of masking it. Peter felt his jaw lock and his teeth clench for what felt like the hundredth time that day. This time he was lucky no one could see his face under the mask.

When Pepper took over, Mr. Stark guided Peter and Lena out the door, a gentle push with his hands on both of their shoulders. The second the door closed behind them, Mr. Stark had let go of him and grabbed Lena.

“What the _hell_ were you thinking?” he sounded nervous, and Peter could see that his hands had a slight shake to them.

“Mr. Stark don’t-"

“Peter, quiet,” Mr. Stark snapped pointing a single finger in between Peter’s eyes and then returning to Lena, whose mouth was wide open, probably not having the words to come close to responding.

 _It was too loud,_ she said inside his head

 _Then tell him that,_ he thought at her, not sure if she would even hear it at all.

She was starting to shake as well, her hands clasping as she tried to manage them. Peter wanted to help, to let Mr. Stark know what the hell she was thinking. It made sense to him; he had seen her have a panic attack before.

“It was too!” was all Lena had in her. Loud wasn’t a part of her vocabulary yet, and that wasn’t her fault.

“What? It was too what?” Mr. Stark was frantic, almost shaking her to try to get her to speak.

“Loud, Mr. Stark. It was too loud in there. I’m sure that’s the loudest scenario she’s ever been in, and I understand why it freaked her out. Hell, the first time she cried she freaked out. Can you blame her? You’re throwing everything at her pretty damn fast,” Peter had started talking, and words were spilling out faster than he could think. “Give her a break okay? She just found out with the rest of the world that she’s going to be a superhero.”

Mr. Stark stood upright, and turned around, looking shocked at the audacity Peter apparently had. He was surprised with himself, that was for sure. Most conversations he had with Mr. Stark involved a copious amount of nervous stuttering, and that was when he was relaxed. Seeing Lena being carelessly tossed around like she was less than human was starting to drive Peter insane.

“I am,” she said, breaking the awfully uncomfortable silence forming between the three of them. “Less than human. I am.”

Mr. Stark expelled the remaining air that he had been holding in his lungs, “Peter. Do you understand what just happened? Do you understand that she revealed her capabilities on live television? People are going to think she’s a threat. We know that she’s not a threat, but how are they supposed to know that? Huh?” he pointed at the door, referencing to the press within the room, “Tell me, Peter!”

The yelling, the frustration, and the undermining of Peter’s knowledge was reminiscent of the last time Peter had taken matters into his own hands. He was swept away into the moment he almost had his suit permanently taken away. Both Mr. Stark and he had learned a lot since then, but his mentor’s raised voice tended to ring in his head, bouncing between his ears.

“I think Pepper will be able to handle it,” Peter said coldly.

He looked over at Lena, who was taking off the device that was keeping her upright. He wasn’t sure why, she still needed to get to her room, but she sat on the floor and yanked it off, silently handing it to Mr. Stark and holding her hands out for Peter to take, a mute expression taking over her eyes. Peter took her by the hands to stand her up, then wrapped his arm around her waist to carry her bridal style to her room, trying to avoid the intense stare that Mr. Stark was shooting into his heart, which was racing beyond belief. As he started to walk away, the weight of Lena’s head against his heart starting to slow it down, Mr. Stark called after them.

“Kids- I,” he sighed, cutting himself off. “Listen kids, I only want what’s best for you,” he sighed one more time, it was likely he was reminding himself of his father, like last time, “I want the world to love Lena as much as all of us here love her. First impressions are tough, but I’m sorry that I snapped. Okay?”

Peter looked down at Lena, who had barely uncoiled from the complete enclosure of his arms, her silver eyes met his, and she turned to Mr. Stark, nodding. Mr. Stark nodded back, and Peter headed to Lena’s room. If anything, she desperately needed to relax.

They got to her room, and Peter was so tense a headache was forming behind his right eye. He used his fist and rubbed, but that only made it worse. He closed his eyes, leaning against the door frame, and opened them to see Lena looking at him curiously.

“I-my head hurts, that’s all.”

_You’re stressed._

“I mean I guess I-”

_I can fix that._

“You-” She opened her mouth to sing, but this time, the fog engulfed him. It wasn’t as strong as he remembered it, which brought him to think that she might be able to control its strength, but he let it wash through his body and into his veins, the headache vanishing completely. It was like someone had turned on the air conditioning inside of his person, cooling him off with the strongest relaxation he had ever felt.

When she stopped, it lingered, hanging in the air around him. He hadn’t noticed he had walked a few steps towards her.

“Thanks.”

_Of course._

…

“Hey May, sorry I wasn’t able to come home after-” “

Peter you were on TV!” May came running out of the living room, her socks skidding across the tiles almost causing her to slip. “Peter. Everyone is going nuts. Who is that? Who’s the Siren? You didn’t tell me you had a partner-”

“May May May!” he put a hand on her shoulder, almost laughing, “Slow down. You know that project that I’ve been working on with Mr. Stark for the past, I don’t know, 2-3 months?”

“Yes of course.”

“Well. . .” he maneuvered his hands back and forth, not knowing precisely how to say he’s been rehabilitating a siren.

“That’s-that’s wow. Peter wow,” May took a step back, landing on the bar stool behind her. “She’s amazing!”

Peter smiled, “I know. She won’t be ready to accompany me for a while, but they had to release the stuff about the ships and-”

“You knew about that the whole time and didn’t tell me?”

“It’s classified!”

“I’m your legal guardian!”

“And I’m Tony Stark’s intern!” May leaned back, taking all of the news in visibly, after an exhale she finally said, “So is she cute?”

Peter blinked, “Wha-what? Cute? Is she what?”

“She has to be gorgeous. That long blonde hair. The luring voice. You haven’t shown interest in anyone since Liz, Peter. So is. She. Cute?”

His aunt looked more than enthusiastic about his answer, probably knowing it better than he did, “May I-I don’t know! Maybe she might be I-”

“Okay. Cool,” May winked and stood, returning to whatever she had been doing in the living room.

Dumbfounded, he went to his room so he could get his homework done in time for patrol.

The rush he got from swinging through the buildings of New York would never grow old. He had been doing this for months now, and the wind whistling, the view of the city from a rooftop, the way people pointed as he swung by, it all filled his heart with something that was irreplaceable. That evening he stopped a mugging, rescued a woman from almost being hit by a car, and took down a man that was trying to lure a young girl into his car while her mother wasn’t looking.

The nights weren’t always busy like that. Sometimes he couldn’t find anything to do, which were the times when he felt as if he wasn’t doing enough. It wasn’t like in Berlin where he felt like he was passionately doing fighting for the right thing. It definitely wasn’t like taking down the Vulture, where multiple parts played into the villain's demise. It was just wandering aimlessly in hope of someone needing help. If he knew the codes to the police dispatch, he would just use that, but he didn’t, and Mr. Stark had programmed Karen to be unable to identify those codes. Mr. Stark would do anything to prevent Peter from being tagged as a vigilante.

He sat on another unknown roof, knowing it would take less than five minutes to get home. Usually, he would go immediately to the front of his apartment to get into a car sent by Mr. Stark, but he could see from this roof that the car wasn’t there. He had already seen Lena that day, so he didn’t mind, but there was a twinge in his chest when he thought of the possibility of Mr. Stark being upset with him. He hadn’t meant to diminish any authority.

Soon, Lena would be sitting on this roof with him. He’d carry her in his arms, swinging, having someone by his side to keep everything under control. That was her best asset: control. She could have complete control over anyone she wanted, although she had told him it was harder for some than others. He recalled that she once said that Mr. Stark was so thick headed that she never even had a desire to attempt trancing him. It would have to be completely voluntary for her to do it easily.

He could see it now. Her singing, him easily pulling the gun out of a perp’s hand. It was a dream for his crime scenes to move slowly, and when he was done, he could end the performance with one of his classic one-liners. It was everything he could have wanted, with the only person he could picture himself doing it with. For the longest time, the idea of him falling for Lena had been aggressively shoved from every ounce of his brain. It was so easy to develop feelings for someone as beautiful as her. May had asked if she was cute, but that would be a complete understatement. She was breathtaking. Every time they locked eyes his heart dropped to his stomach, and he lost every coherent thought that was going through his idiotic brain. His brain became mush around her. The last time he had felt like that was with…

With Liz it was still different, though. With Liz he felt like he had every right to develop a crush on her. Lena was so fragile and impressionable that he felt like he was taking advantage of her somehow. There were times where he thought his feelings might be fabricated by the illusion that was her beauty. Her appearance was supposed to make his heart race so fast it could fly.

She had pressed her finger to his lips after he stuttered to fix his stupid mistake. He had acknowledged how pretty she was right to her face, and it was obvious she knew what it meant. But it hadn’t deterred her from relieving his headache or accepting Peter taking her into his arms. In fact, she had placed her ear on his heart and was probably listening as she did with his thoughts. He knew she couldn’t completely read them, but behind his eyes he saw her picking through them, shuffling through them like a song on a jukebox.

He didn’t mind. Somehow he knew he was different than everyone else. She hadn’t said it, but he knew that she couldn’t do that with just anybody. He let her pick through his brain, because he trusted her completely.

For her, he’d open himself like a book.


	16. Chapter 16

After watching Peter carry Lena away, Tony felt a sense of relief. Everything had been extremely high pressure, from Rhodey frantically calling him, to the last-minute press conference, to the endless amounts of press begging him for answers; all of it was squeezing his head too tight. He wouldn’t be surprised if his brain popped out. Now, Peter was frustrated with him, and for valid reason too. Something inside Tony had snapped in half like a twig, forcing a series of aggressive words on the young girl who had trusted him with her care. He wondered if that trust had changed after the tense encounter.

Rubbing his eyes, he watched as Peter left, hopping into a car he had probably called for himself. The kid was finding a comfortable place at the compound, which was something that Tony had always hoped for. He had anticipated it happening sooner, but Peter had interpreted a serious offer as something that it wasn’t, and it turns out Spider-Man would officially become an Avenger at a later date. For now, him and the Siren would be New York’s fan-favorite vigilantes.

Having a partner would be good for his mentee. It could be someone that would keep him in check. Tony liked the idea of Peter having someone with him while fighting crime rather than going at it on his own, and someone with so much power over others would almost make the job easy. Plus, there was an odd tie that Lena had to the boy. Maybe it was because he was the first one she interacted with, or maybe it was because she had a crush on him, but they clicked particularly well and he was the only person that Lena didn’t blow off. Every human that crossed her path she shied away from, putting a strong barrier between them. It was that way with all of the doctors, her tutor, and even Tony.

Tony wandered in the direction of Cap’s old room, the room that Lena had now inhabited. They had cleaned it out a while ago, Pepper kindly returning all of his stuff behind Tony’s back, so it had been empty, excluding the basic pieces of furniture. When the girl had finally revealed that she could survive outside of the water, the ghost of the room finally came to life again despite how empty it was.

He was unsure as to why she hadn’t mentioned the ability to walk on land earlier, but it didn’t matter anymore. Lena could move outside of her tank, and was adapting to human life with ease.

All of the doctors he had hired had sent back good reports. Her progress was extraordinary and unlike anything they had seen before. Even the tutor that they had only started earlier that week said that she grasped onto concepts without further explanation immediately. He had taken a gamble by submitting her application for Midtown, but by the looks of it, she would be completely caught up with Peter three weeks from now, possibly sooner.

He had cut some ties to secure her identity and custody. His lawyer was a smart man, getting the social security number, the birth certificate, and the adoption papers had been a piece of cake compared to the chaos that had been his life since his fight with Steve. It was refreshing to see some paperwork that he actually wanted to read and sign, and saying that Pepper’s ‘sister’ had tutored her at an advanced level was what secured the spot to take the entrance exam. All she had to do was pass it.

For the first time since she had moved in, the door was closed. He let his head fall into the corner of his hand, leaning on the wall beside the door and knocking lightly. It was highly probable that she had no idea what the knock meant, but he could always explain it to her if he had to.

“Who is there?” she said in her small, raspy voice.

“It’s Tony. Can I come into your room?”

“Yes.”

She was lying on her bed, her face staring at the ceiling. He had only visited her when she was with Peter, so he had no idea if this was normal. Sometimes when he walked by he heard her talking to PET, the AI that had been specifically tailored to her needs. Lots of the human mannerisms that she had questions on could be answered in a direct way, and he was glad she was making good use of it.

“Hi, kiddo.”

“Hello,” she sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. She was a tiny girl, but when she curled up she somehow looked even smaller.

“Is there anything I can do to make your life easier?”

She shrugged, still cautiously staring at Tony. Her eyes were wide and silver, avoiding eye contact but still looking at him nonetheless.

“I...take your well-being very seriously. The only thing I want is for you to be safe.” There was a chunk of silence, him not knowing what to say, and if Lena wanted to say anything, she didn’t know how. It was strange how he wanted her to be safe, but a major part of keeping her protected was to send her right into danger. Sometimes what was best was not always what was easiest.

“Yes,” she finally said, “I am...doing...my best,” he saw the concentration in her voice as she spoke, thinking about each word before getting it out. She met his eyes, a small tear falling down her face, “Thank you.”

“Yeah. Anything for you,” Tony lifted his hand and let it fall on her shoulder, hoping she would find comforting in some sort of way. “I’ve been working on blueprints of that pool. Let me know if you have any ideas. If you find an image you like online, ask PET to send them to me.”

He saw a smile from her for what he realized was the first time, “Really?”

“Yeah. Anything you want,” he just wanted her to be happy. Tony was slowly starting to acknowledge that he felt the same way about Lena that he felt about Peter, but doubled. It wasn’t that he didn’t care for Peter - of course he did - but he was now this girl’s legal guardian, and held responsibility for her. She was his.

_His._

Was this feeling paternal?

He had thought about having kids before, but never for an extensive amount of time. It had always freaked him out, but this teenager had dropped into his hands, and it only felt natural for him to take care of her. His discussion involving her custody had gone surprisingly well with Pepper, and now legally Lena belonged to them.

“I’m going to hug you, is that okay?” She wiped another tear from her eye and nodded.

_Daughter_.

He hadn’t heard her voice inside his head since she told him her life story. Peter had quickly explained to her that it was more difficult for her to read into some minds, and that Tony’s was particularly difficult, but hearing her say the word, a word she had just learned, was affirmation.

_Daughter_.

…

Mr. Stark left, the energy in the room more uplifting than when he had first entered. Lena had told him that she cared, reassured him that she would not stay upset for long. The anger that had accompanied him grabbing and yelling at her would pass easily, as she was his daughter and she wanted to forgive him.

In her former culture, there was no such thing as a daughter, except for her. Technically, they were forbidden. They were all sisters, each born from one another. Her biological parents had been killed, so she never had an opportunity to be their daughter. She was certain they were somewhere, there souls happy to see that she had found a proper home.

Finding this home came with its consequences. There was no way she could ever return to the Atlantic ocean. They would find her as soon as she came in contact with the water, luring her back to their dwelling to kill her. The power they possessed was strong, strong enough to lure their half sister.

If Peter was with her they would kill him too.

It did not matter, though, because there was no reason to return to the sea. Mr. Stark was building her a pool, made to her liking, and she now watched ‘Planet Earth’ nearly every day, reliving what it would be like to swim in the salt again. A small part of her was tempted to return, but it outweighed her desire to be with Peter.

She was so close to being able to tell him. Every fiber of her soul wanted to explain to him how badly she wanted to connect with him, to press her lips to his. Ultimately, it was his choice. Kissing a _seiren_ was a contract, and he had to know what it meant before he tried. It was good that he had not tried to as of yet, but it worried her constantly that he would and she would have to kindly reject it until she was ready.

After she was ready, though, he may not be.

A kiss from a _seiren_ was a lifelong agreement. It meant eternity, which was a complicated concept for any mortal to try and understand. Eternity was why a _seiren_ was forced to kill her _peirasmós_. The kiss from a _seiren_ meant that its receiver could spend that eternity with the person they loved the most, and it gave the seiren complete control over their aging. If they so desired, they could live a full life of youth, or they could age normally, getting older and older.

It would be punishment for their race if their grip on eternity was exploited. The _seiren_ were the fountain of youth that Juan Ponce de Leon had journeyed for so intensely. It was how he eventually met his demise.

Of course, a _peirasmós_ bond was mutual. As of currently, Lena practically full reign over Peter’s thoughts. Once their lips locked, it would be a shared. He would be able to tune into her thoughts as she did with him. It would be stronger than it was before, and they could turn it off and on whenever they liked.

If Peter wanted eternity, he could have it. It would bring an asset to their crime fighting capability. They would be one step ahead of every challenger they faced. She could never pressure him to do anything that he did not want to do. She loved him too much.

Love was strange. For her first 63 years, it had been a mystery as to how her mother could give her life for her _peirasmós_ and her child, but the more time she spent with Peter, the more clear it became. The steady process of forgiveness had begun way back when she had gotten a glimpse of Peter’s dazed face, and had flourished. She empathized with her mother.

She _was_ her mother.

It was why Peter saw them every night, same as she did. Her sisters had always loved to torment her with the reminder of their betrayal, but when they had slept side by side, his arm around her, it had been a clear night’s sleep. Their love overpowered her sisters’ hate.

She pinched the under part of her arm, a reminder that she had no way of knowing if he wanted the same. She knew he cared, but eternity was a long time, and it was likely he would be resistant to the idea. The only thing she could do was try and explain.

Once she had the words, she had a plan. Fortunately she did not have to solely rely on words, but speaking the explanation to him was how she wanted to present it, and if she needed to show him through his mind, she would.

She would do whatever it took.


	17. Chapter 17

_Two weeks later._

Peter had planned the surprise party in a frenzy, originally thinking that it was going out on a limb to assume that she would pass the test. After spending the Monday before asking Mr. Stark, he was reassured that it was highly unlikely that she wouldn’t pass.

“No niece of mine will ever be set up to fail!”

A week after announcing her existence to the world, she walked up to him. For the first time. On her own. For a month she had been crutching around the compound, unable to stand for more than a minute, and now she was walking towards him, a huge grin on her face, only almost losing her balance every few steps, but she never fell over. Something had clicked.

“I think her brain finally understood what we were trying to get it to do,” Dr. Blythe had apparently said, “You know how a baby knows when to take their first steps? I think it was very similar to that. It would be an interesting psych study if we had more subjects to test it on.”

He had lifted her up, spun her around, happily listening to the laughter that he brought out of her. When he set her down, he was even more pleased to see that she was beaming at him, proud of her new accomplishment. Even though he had just seen her standing with Mr. Stark’s contraption a week prior, it was almost odd to see her standing upright on her own. He had grown used to helping her get from place to place, but now they could walk anywhere that they’d like. She was short, and that was saying a lot compared to Peter’s (technically) short stature. She had to be at least eight inches shorter than him, if not more

. A week after, she was speaking in full sentences. It could still be choppy and awkward, but she was starting to speak in his head less and less, relying heavily on her new verbal skills, and it was nice to be able to hear her voice. She was so close to fully adapting, coming so far in the span of five months.

The week of her test, she was shaking with anxiety almost every day. In the time she had to prepare for it, she had developed a desire to go to midtown, and while her enthusiasm was better than fear, he could also see that she was putting an intense amount of pressure on herself. No longer needing physical therapy, she spent most of her day with her tutor, exhausting herself with the endless amounts of studying she inflicted on herself.

It was crazy how quickly she grasped concepts. Things that had taken Peter his entire life to learn, like algebra and literature, she could understand in a few weeks. She would truly excel in the academic atmosphere, and while it would be difficult for her to interact with other humans, there was no better way for her to develop those skills than to throw her into the water. No doctor or tutor could ever help her with social interaction.

Mr. Stark had loosely brought up the idea of the surprise party, and it was Peter who took it and ran. With Lena filling all of her energy into her test, he didn’t want to bother her, so he took on a project of his own for the week. It wasn’t until he was knee deep that he realized it would be hard to plan a surprise party for a half-siren with hardly any friends, but he was sure Mr. Stark would show up, possibly Pepper, and if he was lucky Happy and all of her doctors would make an appearance. So he proceeded with the idea, with Mr. Stark providing him with everything he needed.

While she was at Midtown Tech, acing her test, Peter ran around the main landing, making sure catering was squared away, handing out noisemakers, and double checking every single decoration to make sure nothing was out of place. After another day of Peter begging Mr. Stark, he had finally gave in to let Ned come, and he saw his best friend excitedly annoying his mentor, causing a twinge of embarrassment, but simultaneously a bit of warm pride. Two of his favorite people interacting couldn’t be a better sight to see.

Well, Lena might be.

“Peter, stop acting like this is your final project for the class on half-mermaids,” Ned called out across the room as Peter straightened the banner he had made. He heard Mr. Stark chuckle at the teasing comment.

“I just...she just…”

“She deserves it, we know, Pete,” Mr. Stark joined in, playfully nudging Ned next to him, who had never been more excited in his entire life.

 _Peter, Lena has entered the building and is taking the elevator towards your location_. Mr. Stark’s AI, F.R.I.D.A.Y., had been keeping an eye on the entrance for him. He smiled, looked at everyone in the room, and motioned for them to hide.

It wasn’t until he was sat behind a counter that he realized she had never been surprised before. The door creaked open, and there was a beat of dread, hoping that they wouldn’t give her a heart attack, and soon noise makers were going off, Peter jumping out to find a shocked looking Lena, smiling and laughing. A full, hearty laugh, as if all tension had flown out of her body.

She walked to him, as fast as she could and threw herself into his arms, still laughing softly. He held her tight, happy that after a week of isolation, she had finally returned to him, elated and ready to carry on.

“It was easy,” she said, somehow grinning wider than before. She was resting her chin on his sternum, her arms still tightly twisted around his body.

He brushed away a stray hair that had gotten caught on her lip, “Of course it was, you’re the smartest person I know.” For a moment they stared at each other, holding each other within their eyes. Peter completely forgot about the world around him, the party, and all he could see was her. She was coming to school with him. He would be able to show the world one of the most important people in his life.

“That’s not even true!” Ned snapped them both out of it, jerking their heads to his direction. Peter laughed halfheartedly, and remembered that he was finally able to introduce his two best friends to each other

. Taking her hand, he led her over to Ned, who was giving him that _look_. Ned knew when Peter was falling for someone, and most of the time he knew before even Peter did. The _look_ was one he had been seeing since fifth grade, which was the first crush that Peter could even remember. There had probably been more times he had been given the _look_ , but it happened too many times for Peter to archive it in his mind. He was lucky that Lena had no idea how to perceive most facial expressions, so he rolled his eyes as they approached.

“Lena, this is my best friend since kindergarten, Ned. Ned, my girl-my friend Lena,” he fumbled over his words, almost introducing her as something she wasn’t. He heard a snicker from Mr. Stark.

“Well, I’ve heard a lot about you!” he reached out for her to shake his hand, which brought Lena to look at him, puzzled.

“Hand-shake, Lena, like this,” he demonstrated, “It’s what you do when you meet someone for the first time. You’ll probably be doing it a lot at Midtown Tech.”

“If I passed the test.”

“You passed the test,” this time him and Mr. Stark said it at the exact same time, both of them laughing when they realized what had happened.

She shrugged, “I do not know until three days from now.” You’ll pass He thought it at her, something he had been trying to effectively do for the past few days. She winked at him, a response she had picked up from Mr. Stark, and telling him that she heard.

He had seen the blueprints of the pool, so Mr. Stark anticipated that she was passing. He had sat in on some of her tutoring sessions, so he would know better than anyone, apparently even Lena. She had the same doubt in herself that every teenager seemed to get. The smartest kids still assumed the worst. It was easier than expecting the best only to be let down.

As the small party wrapped itself up, Peter satisfied with how it went, Mr. Stark instructed his staff members to clean up, a slight relief to the boy who saw every single crumb on the ground, and the stain on the carpet caused when Dr. Loud laughed a little too carelessly. Everyone had left except Ned, who was riding home with Peter.

They were about to make their exit, having homework to do, when Mr. Stark grabbed Peter by the arm and non-discreetly pulled him to the side, looking like a secret was on the tip of his tongue.

“Peter,” he was looking around for someone specific, not wanting them to hear, “Do you think your extremely attractive aunt will let Lena stay at your place for the next two nights? I’m adding the pool to her room while she waits for the results, and I want it to be a surprise.”

It was a moment from Mr. Stark that Peter had never seen before. The man was nervous and excited, occasionally looking over at Lena with the same amount of pride he had that morning. It was a vulnerable place that was rare for the emotionally blocked off Tony Stark.

Peter chuckled. “Yeah, of course. I’ll text her right now.”

“Great. You’re the man, Peter Parker. I mean. The kid,” Mr. Stark winked and walked off towards Lena’s direction.

_Hey May, Mr. Stark is re-doing his niece’s room, and she needs somewhere to stay. Is it alright if she stays at home?_

He waited, and almost immediately got a response.

_Of course! She’s more than welcome to! She can use the top bunk of your bed._

Peter grinned at his phone screen and shoved it in his pocket, excitement building up in his chest. First Ned, and now May was going to meet the person that had changed his worldview completely. He felt like he was finally able to share a significant part of his life with everyone on the outside, and it was liberating.

“Lena! Pack a bag! We’re going to my place!” he called across the room. She turned to him, confused. “I want you to meet Aunt May!” Her eyes crinkled into a smile, and he could almost feel her match his excitement. She looked to Mr. Stark for the approval that he had already given, and ran off in the direction of her room. Peter had told her everything about how incredible his Aunt was, and Lena had mentioned her desire to meet her. Two of the most important women in his life were going to meet. It was exhilarating.

…

After dropping off Ned at his apartment, it was only a few blocks until they would reach Peter’s place. He looked over to her, seeing that her hands were shaking atop the backpack she had brought for the next two nights. He placed his hand on top of them, giving her a comforting look.

“She’ll love you. She loves most people, but she’s bound to love you, Lena. Temptress. And if she doesn’t, just use your voice to change that.”

Lena’s head snapped quickly, and she shoved him hard, hardly laughing at the joke, more laughing at him almost hitting his head against the window.

“It was funny!”

“No it was not!”

As they rose up through the elevator, Lena’s silver eyes could only stare at the numbers growing larger. With a startling DING the doors opened, and Peter led her down the long hallway towards apartment 706. Sticking the key in the door and opening it, he found May in the kitchen probably concocting something inedible.

“You must be Lena Potts! I’ve been dying to meet you!”


	18. Chapter 18

_Dying to meet you? What an odd phrase._

That was all Lena had time to think before she was engulfed in Aunt May’s arms, in a hug that felt like home. Her energy was open and readable, radiating a warmth that Lena had never felt before. May Parker could be easily manipulated, but the sweetness of her smile made it practically impossible for Lena to even consider that (she also could not picture a scenario where that would be necessary, but that was besides the point). She could feel where Peter got his kindness and compassion; it was radiating off May’s fingertips and thrusting into the air like a perfume made of joy. Likewise, she smelled sweet, the way she pictures the flowers in _The Wizard of Oz_ smelling.

“It is nice to meet you,” Lena smiled out of a new found happiness that she had never felt before, and she could feel Peter becoming elated with tenderness behind her. It was the same way he had felt when she was being introduced to Ned, as if his heart was sitting on a cloud.

They spoke for a while, which was difficult, but Lena navigated her way through it. By the time May announced she would be making dinner, she felt like she was in mental overload, having formulated so many words at once, so Peter showed her to his room, notifying her that he would be making the top bunk for her. It was a bed with two levels, smaller than what she was used to. To her left was a desk, cluttered with a large computer, and gadgets scattered across the top. To her right sat a disorganized bookshelf, and clothes were littered across the floor. Peter’s name was written all over the organized chaos that was his bedroom. They sat on his bed, listening to the ruckus that May was creating in the kitchen. Lena’s head was resting on his leg, and his fingers were weaving their way through her hair, winding through it like they were stuck in a maze. By this point, they were able to communicate quickly and smoothly through both thought and spoken word. Anyone attempting to listen in would be confused by words being skipped over and spoken fragments of sentences.

“What’s it like?” he asked after a brief moment of silence. _Living in the ocean._

Her eyes went misty, clouding over with the memories of what once was. Five months ago she was swimming aimlessly through the Atlantic, without any hope for anything in her life. Nothing had meaning, and nothing had purpose. She wished with her whole being that she could say that it was all perfect. In her time away from the sea, she had romanticized what it used to be like. The nightmares that accompanied her sleep were stark reminders that she never could return.

“It was…” she was contemplating, needing to say precisely how it felt, _terribly wonderful._

He did not reply. She felt the words reverberating off of the walls of his head. She could tell he knew she purposefully chose an oxymoron, but he was trying to figure out why. A set of chills went down the back of her spine as his fingers brushed through her scalp.

“There is no place like the sea,” she whispered _, Its endless depths and smooth waters could be heavenly if it were not home to…_

“To them.” If she closed her eyes for too long, she could see them. The creatures that haunted her nightmares, the creatures that destroyed her from the inside out, her tormentors. Her…

She could not call them sisters.

_You have betrayed us._

She flinched, physically jerking, her legs wanting to cling to her chest. On the crook of her arm she felt Peter’s hand touch her gently, longing to know if she was all right. The memories of those times were so painful that they never wanted to leave her, aggressively hitting her at random. It had been five months and she still could not shake her abusers from plaguing her brain. She had started to wonder if this was a part of their curse. The smell of burning filled their noses, and May knocked, Lena sitting up straight.

“The recipe had to have had a mistake in it,” she was fanning her nose, “Pizza? Takeout? I’m all right with anything.”

“Lena has a small appetite, so go ahead and get whatever you want, May.”

Apparently, it occurred to Peter that Lena had never had a ‘slumber party’ before, murmuring something to May about being home-schooled and not having many friends. It was almost comedic how May’s open energy was highly aware Peter was lying, but she entertained Peter, nonetheless. The woman understood the kid inside and out; she had practically raised him as her own son. She knew he had a reason behind everything he did, and trusted him more than he knew. Lena made a mental note to tell him that sometime. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and sat down where Peter instructed her, upon a pile of blankets he had meticulously laid out himself. What they had called ‘pizza’ sat in front of them, the box open to reveal a round, delicious smelling food item that she had never had eaten before.

“We got cheese because I heard you refuse to eat meat,” Peter said, sitting down next to her and crossing his legs, “I think you’ll like it.”

Like sleeping, eating had become a mandatory chore. She was not used to the odd human rituals that humans were forced to partake in to get their energy. It was only reasonable that she was doubtful she would like this food, but when she took a bit, the cheese hit her taste buds, and she all of a sudden knew why humans could be so obsessive over the food they digested. She nodded at him, showing him her approval as a string of cheese fell down her chin.

May sat behind them on a couch, eating a slice of pizza as well, “What are we watching?”

“Lena’s never seen Tangled, and I think she would...really identify with the main character,” Peter had a mischievous grin on his face that she had come to notice was his way of holding back a joke or a laugh. She brushed it off and waited for the punchline as the TV was turned on, and the opening credits started to play. As soon as the story progressed, Lena could see why Peter had picked this movie. The main character had long hair, even longer than Lena’s, and had the same exploratory nature that Lena carried with her everywhere. Rapunzel’s opposite was an ambitious, chaotic thief named Flynn Rider, who didn’t find himself being vulnerable hardly at all, but he made the same snarky comments that Peter had a habit of making as a part of his sense of humor.

It was not until a certain scene that May got a wonderful idea. Without hardly a warning, she dove her hands into Lena’s hair, yanking and pulling, causing a mix of humor and confusion displaying itself through giggles. When she finished, Lena could not feel the waves of hair falling over her shoulders, they were tightly woven into what May called a ‘braid.’ It was unlike the ponytail in its scalp yanking nature. It looked like a long rope like the kind sailors used, and fell all the way to her bellybutton.

“I’ll be right back, kids, I need to make some popcorn,” May winked at Peter and strolled off towards the kitchen. Peter had been gazing at Lena, and when she lifted her eyes, his seemed to be begging her to tell him. The secret that she had been holding onto. He knew that the bond was there, he wanted to act on it, but he did not know why. The music in the background only heightened the magnetic pull she was starting to feel.

_And at last I see the light_

_And it's like the fog has lifted_

_And at last I see the light_

_And it's like the sky is new_

It was a sweet ballad that fluttered her heart, and she could suddenly see the physical manifestation of the _peirasmós_ bond that had been dragging them together since that fall evening five months ago.

_And it’s warm and real and bright_

_And the world has somehow shifted_

_All at once everything looks different_

_Now that I see you._

The braid gave Peter a full view of her face, but it was not just her face that he saw. She felt him looking through her, at the rope that was holding her heart together. A lifetime of grief and anguish was swept away by the young boy she had bonded with, and the love that radiated off of him was enough to strengthen her through the painful moments when she could not go on. Her chest felt warm, and she had not noticed the lure of his eyes bringing her in closer, their faces inches apart. It seemed like the perfect moment, the perfect song, the perfect person.

She stopped, her chin falling to her chest, his lips finding the top of her head. Now was not the time. She felt his hand inch its way over her’s, begging again to tell him.

_What is going on._

They did not acknowledge the moment for the rest of the night, simply carried on as usual. The movie ended happily, Rapunzel and Flynn Rider fell in love, leaving her to wonder if she would ever find the courage to do the same. She had forgotten a comfortable set of clothing to sleep in, so Peter making a sarcastic remark about it while she pulled the gray thermal over her head. The baggy, cotton pants he gave her was probably the softest item of clothing she had worn, but looking in his mirror she looked like a grey blob. She was capsizing in fabric.

Saying goodnight was hard only because she did not want to finish talking to him, but he had school the next day, and she had to patiently wait for the test results. The next few days were about to be painfully long.

“Goodnight, L.”

“Good night, Peter.”

 

She woke up screaming.

When they attacked, their eyes turned a sickening yellow that signified their hunt. It brought out an animalistic trait that craved human flesh. Lena’s eyes had never turned yellow despite the lives she had taken. Every life she had taken was a rock in the bottom of her heart. The men and women that she had been forced to kill to preserve her own life would follow her until the day that she died.

It was the same every night. It was the same time, the same dream, and same blood curdling screams that usually did not have to wake anyone. They were typically drowned out by the abyss of the Avengers Compound. One night Mr. Stark had come in to check on her, but his AI no longer sent the notification that she was screaming; like Lena, it had grown used to it.

Being in Peter’s much smaller apartment, though, was a different story. She heard clicks, the sound of something coming into contact with the ceiling, and through the blurriness of her tears she could make out the figure of Peter climbing towards her, falling off the ceiling and onto her bed, encasing her tiny person in his arms.

“I’ve got you! I’ve got you. You’re okay!” he sounded groggy and out of breath, but he was warm and comforting compared to the cold sobs she was used to pushing through. It took less time for her to calm down with him wrapped around her. If she had a reason to sleep in his arms every night, she would; her nightmares were almost nonexistent with him at her side.

“Do not leave me, Peter,” she was pleading with him, out of a genuine fear that he could leave and not return. What if he gave up? What if she had waited too long to tell him? How could he love someone that lied to him every day?

“I could never leave you.”

In the depths of his mind where she had a bad habit of searching, she heard him tack on the word,

_Princess._


	19. Chapter 19

He wasn’t sure why he spent his time chasing her. Every step forward was becoming two steps back. He respected that she was holding back, he just wasn’t sure why. He wanted to know why.

_What is going on?_

His alarm went off at 6am, dragging him out of a sleep that was more comforting than he wanted to admit. He never imagined sleeping next to someone as being peaceful or easier: having a heated body on a shared bed sounded crowded. With Lena, though, he always slept like a rock and woke up feeling refreshed.

They fit together like a puzzle piece. Everything about being with her seemed right, except for the fact that she didn’t seem to want to be with him.

Or kiss him, at least.

They had fallen asleep tangled in each other’s limbs. Both of her arms were tucked into her chest, his arms holding her lower back and her head. When he woke, he could smell her shampoo from his face being buried in the top of her scalp. It smelled like coconut. Trying not to wake her, he kissed the top of her head and pulled himself to the ceiling, falling lightly on his feet. She was a light sleeper, and it was surprising that she hadn’t woken up yet. If she was still asleep by the time he left for school, he figured he would leave a note with instructions on where everything was.

As he was brushing his teeth in the bathroom that May and he shared, he heard her yell something from the kitchen, directly after the ding of the toaster. He spit and walked out to hear what she actually said.

“What was that?”

May was fumbling around the kitchen, as usual, dressed for work and looking hurried.

“The boiler at your school broke or something. I don’t know. I got a phone call from the principal - you know one of those pre-recorded messages - saying that school will probably be canceled until the weekend. Isn’t that neat? You’ll be able to keep your friend company!” she put two Eggo waffles on a plate and set it in front of him, “If you want more, you know where to find them, I’m off to work.”

She took off, the door closing loudly behind her. After eating his waffles, he returned to his room to find Lena still fast asleep, her face looking a lot less tense than it had yesterday. It was odd to him that she had been nervous about meeting his aunt, but after their long introduction and her not looking too far into Lena’s awkward way of speaking, the women warmed to each other.

He rubbed his eyes, knowing that he could catch up on sleep, and gracefully webbed himself back into bed, re-positioning his arms around Lena. He could have easily just fallen into the lower bunk, which wouldn’t have risked her waking, but they obviously both slept better in each other’s arms, so why wouldn’t he try that?

He closed his eyes again, glad that he was able to sleep in.

He woke to Lena stirring, her eyes fluttering open like a baby deer seeing the world for the first time. She smiled at the sight of Peter, sitting up and stretching her arms toward the sky. The elastic holding her braid together had fallen out sometime during the night, and the bottom half of her hair looked like a set of ocean waves piling over each other. She looked at it, amused, and shook the remaining hair out of place and over her shoulders. She looked beautiful, sitting in front of him with the sun shining on her face. Her sunflower smile yearned to find the warmth of the beams coming through his window.

He made her some waffles, noting that it was now 8am, and clicked the TV on to see what was happening in the world. She sat on the bar stool, her legs swinging back and forth as she ate.

“There are still endless questions for Stark Industries on this new superhero that they have introduced to Queens, New York. Here with us in the studio is the brother of one of the victims taken by this supposed siren race. His sister was on one of the rescue ships sent out to investigate. Tell us your take.”

Peter felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as Lena turned around to see the TV.

“Maybe I should change-” “

No,” her eyes were glued to the story.

He sighed looking down and then back to the screen.

“I’m just incredibly confused as to why we should trust this new supposed hero? If her people killed ours, why are we putting our safety in her hands?”

“CEO Pepper Potts explained that she is actually half human, they tested it in their labs. She is capable of human emotions that others are not-”

“How do we know when she’s telling the truth? How do we know she isn’t brainwashing us all?”

The news anchor was struggling to hold her ground as the man sitting opposite with her became more aggravated with his words, “Mr. Bridgers-”

As the man erupted again, Peter couldn’t stand to hear it anymore, so he shut it off, throwing the remote onto the couch as if it had caught on fire. Lena looked horrified, eyes still locked on the TV, tears coming down her face.

“They don’t know anything, L, their deaths aren’t your fault-”

“Maybe they are!” she shut her mouth and looked at him, swallowing a lump in her throat.

“Lena-”

“I was forced to kill,” she angrily wiped at her wet eyes, _They forced me to kill._

 _I know._ Peter replied, walking over to her and taking her hands, “And that is why we’re a team, now. You’re going to make up for it by saving people. I do it almost every day. It’s hard, but it’s rewarding, and you’re going to be good at it. They’ll see.”

She was still crying, so Peter let her head fall on his shoulder and rubbed circles on her back, letting her get it all out. He could feel the weight of each sob she heaved, so loud they sounded like hiccups. It was devastating to see her so torn up about something completely out of her control. It was traumatic for her. She did not see killing in the same way her sisters did, and while that made her wonderful, it also forced her to carry a burden for the rest of her life.

_They always said taking a life was difficult, but it was necessary. It was not. It was not._

“I know.”

Peter didn’t turn the news back on, instead, he introduced her to all sorts of movies. In a way, it became educational for her. first movie, he could see that she was starting to cheer up. She started asking questions about anything she didn’t know, which happened to be a lot.

“What’s money?”

“It’s what you give people if you want them to do something or give you something.”

“What’s iPhone?”

“It’s a type of cell phone, which you know.”

“What’s a date?” He hesitated, but answered the question, “When you see someone romantically, you ask them on a date in hopes they say yes and see you romantically as well.”

“Oh.”

Halfway through the day they ordered another pizza, Lena quietly observing how to give money, write a tip, and sign the receipt. It was added to the long list of skills that she had to be taught. It seemed like every five minutes she was asking him if he had heard from Mr. Stark about her test results, and every time he told her the same thing.

“They’re not supposed to be emailed to him until tomorrow. Plus, I’d tell you if I knew.”

Her persistence continued on, and keeping her temporarily distracted was the only thing he could do. Her favorite movie thus far was _The Little Mermaid_ , but she also said it didn’t even compare to _Tangled_.

At 3pm, the sun was still shining bright, and they had started their fourth movie that day. They lounged on the couch this time, Petter sitting with his feet propped up on the coffee table, and Lena’s head in his lap. It was the type of lounging that a couple did, but there was no way she knew that. To her it was probably just comfortable.

Their almost-kiss was playing in his head over and over. What had he done wrong? Maybe he was wrong. Maybe they didn’t fit together as well as he had thought. Was the connection they shared an illusion? Was he imagining the whole thing as a part of the lure that was her species? It started to frustrate him, and she could sense it. The way she sensed his feelings so easily is what made him think that he was special, but his mind could just be weaker than most. The only kind of special that he was, was susceptible to a siren’s trance.

She turned around, probably able to feel the pessimistic thoughts radiating off of him. Her eyebrows were furrowed to a grimace, looking like a mixture of offended and confused.

“I just-” Peter didn’t know what he wanted to say. She stood up and stormed away, a trail of fire following her. He had never seen her angry at him.

He sighed, falling limp on the couch. He figured if he gave her some space it would all be fine. They were best friends, and her mild anger wasn’t anything they couldn’t move past. He had made her feel bad, and it was something that he was starting to regret.

 _PETER_.

The fiery rage filled his head, his vision going white for a second. He stood, woozy, and dizzily walked to his room to find Lena holding a black moleskine notebook, flipping through the pages with conviction and vigor. “STUDYING ME!” she yelled, her lip quivering. “STUDYING ME!”


	20. Chapter 20

Lena had never been this angry in all of her life. Becoming semi-numb to human emotions in the first 63 years had blocked out this kind of rage. If she were to become this angry in front of her former sisters, it would have put her life at risk. Now that the walls were being broken down, she realized that seeing this collection of notes that Peter had taken on her filled her with a fiery rage that would take an extreme amount of convincing to tame. She felt the smoke that followed Miss Potts surround her.

He looked shocked, and the first emotion that started running through his mind was regret. Deep, deep regret was a bottomless pit in his stomach. She flipped through the pages, skimming the dates, the sketches, the different data logs he had created. It made her feel disgusting, as if she was some sort of science experiment that he only took interest in for his research.

“STUDYING ME?!” it was all she could say. It was all she could think. She could feel the tears welling up behind her eyes, but she was getting tired of that, too. All she did now that she was emotionally vulnerable was cry. She threw the notebook, hard, at his feet.

“Lena you weren’t supposed to see that until-”

“Until? Why could I not see it, Peter? Explain! Why!” she was surprised that she did not speak inside his head. Articulating out loud was even more difficult with the passionate emotion tumbling through her system.

“It-it looks worse than it actually is let me explain-”

“Explain, Peter!”

“If you could calm-”

The rage built, and this time she spoke in his head, _DO NOT TELL ME TO CALM DOWN._

His eyes widened, the anger blinding him briefly. That’s why she did not want to speak in his head. It was harming him.

“You’re...you’re right. I shouldn’t have said that. Could you stop doing that, though? It’s hurting me.”

She took a deep breath, “I am sorry.”

“You’re fine,” he was panting, partially from the panic and partially from his vision giving out, “Mr. Stark wanted me to take notes on your progress in case I got something that Dr. Green missed. It was my intern work. I was going to show you...as your school gift.” S

he softened, the red creeping into the corners of her eyes going away, “Gift?”

“On your first day. The sketches were drawn by my friend. I described you to her. You’re going to meet her and…”

It felt like too much. The anger from finding out his secret to trying to understand exactly what he had been trying to go for. Her head was pounding as if her brain was going to pour out of her ears. She yelled and punched a wall, silencing her brain and bringing a sense of clarity she had not anticipated.

She had not made a dent in the wall, but when she pulled her hand back, a few of her knuckles were bleeding. Peter looked at her, horrified.

The regret that Peter had felt was starting to transfer to her. She had misinterpreted the situation completely and was left to look like a barbaric fool. She held back more tears, remorse replacing the anger. Her brain was crashing within her skull. She crumpled into the chair by his desk, putting her face in her hands. There was a feeble wall keeping her tears from pouring out, and it almost broke when she felt his hand on her back.

“I am sorry,” she whimpered.

“No, I’m sorry. I should have just told you earlier and…” he trailed off again, and when she looked up he was running his hand through his hair. “Everything feels like it’s going wrong.”

She understood. She wanted the same thing he did, and he just did not know it. It made her think that she should hold back on her physical affection until she was able to explain what loving her entailed. Nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. She was not like anyone else. She would have this baggage with her for the rest of her life, no one could love her in the way that they had to. Loving her came with a price to pay.

Peter’s phone lit up, and she could see by the look in his eyes that it was from someone he usually did not hear from. His look of despair changed in an instant, lifting up and snapping into glee. When she tried to figure out what it was, Peter threw up a mental wall, keeping her out. She did not know whether to be offended or impressed,

“How are you-”

“It’s a surprise! Happy is on the way to pick us up. Go change back into the clothes you own.”

Peter left so that she could change - not that it mattered - but it took a moment to find her white dress amongst the clothes that almost completely covered the floor. When she did see it, she found it humorous how the white fabric completely stood out amongst Peter’s colored t-shirts. She had taken a liking to the color, and the type of clothes that she had initially been given when she was out of the thank. The light, airy material, Mr. Stark called it ‘linen,’ was soft on her skin, sometimes the feeling of cotton or nylon felt itchy and uncomfortable. She was not used to wearing clothing, and a linen dress was the closest she could get to the feeling of water running over her skin.

She missed swimming. Not the tank, but the ocean. It was a shame she could never return, as the peace she had felt was something she would miss eternally, but it was an easy sacrifice to stay with Peter. She had the television show Planet Earth, and she was going to ask PET to play ocean sounds to help her sleep, so she would be all right.

She would be all right.

Mr. Happy Hogan did not say anything when they got in the car, a usual trait from him. Lena had not decided her opinion of him, he was guarded. She had tried to decipher what sort of mind he had, but it was strange how he could be so open and closed at the same time. The man cared about the people around him, sometimes a little too much. The only certain thing she knew about Happy was that he would die for Tony Stark, and one day she noticed that extended to her as well. She liked that he cared, but she did not like that he definitely did not act like it.

“Oh, Mr. Stark asked me to put this on your eyes,” Peter reached up to the front seat and grabbed something that reminded her of the goggles that went with her suit. As her vision was blocked, she struggled to find an explanation to go along with this but did not argue. She had already spent enough time arguing with Peter that day.

A hand helped her out of the car and moved to her lower back to guide her. It was complete darkness that she had never felt before. She was throwing her trust into Peter’s hands without opposal. It was similar to what he had done when they first met. Up some stairs, turning some corners, and hearing Mr. Stark’s laugh in the distance, she was not sure whether she should be nervous or excited, but the energy around the room felt giddy.

“What is happening?” she finally asked, still having no clue where she was. “

Take her in,” was Mr. Stark’s response. She heard the creak of a door and was walked only a few more steps forward before the blindfold was removed. Her eyes needed adjusting to the light, but she recognized her location: she was in her room, but something was different. Where there used to be a window wall was now a new room, attached to the side of the building.

As she processed what she was seeing, her breath felt like it had floated away. She stumbled and felt tears forming in the back of her eyes.

A pool.

Mr. Stark had attached a pool to the side of her room, three stories tall, starting on the floor her room was on and ending on the ground.

“Why am I crying? I am happy? Why am I…” she choked out a few more tears and let Peter wrap his arm around her.

“Oh, yeah, you passed the test by the way. Midtown will be expecting you on Monday,” Mr. Stark chimed in, leaning on the wall behind them. Lena turned around and smiled at him through her tears. She could feel him swelling with pride.

“What are you waiting for, L? Go swim!”

She ran.

Behind her, Happy and Mr. Stark left, but Peter remained. She tore the dress off, not caring who saw her, because she was about to embrace her alter form, she was about to swim for the first time in what felt like years.

Five months ago, she would have called her tail her ‘true form.’ Being a _seiren_ was all that she had known, and she was unsure if she would ever become anything more than that. She had almost expected Mr. Stark and Peter Parker to throw her back into the ocean once they had the information they needed. She never thought she would receive a purpose to her life.

Now, she felt human. In her time away from her sisters, she had not just become her mother, she had also become her father. His blood pumped through her veins, it put tears in her eyes, it forced her to be angry, and it expressed her love for her _peirasmós_ in the only way it knew how. Her physical manifestation of love could not be taught in the way that the seiren bonded. It was a shame that her sisters would never know what it was like to embrace their _peirasmós_ , for it filled her with energy, life, and joy. Joy was a mystery until it was not.

The water felt like an old friend: familiar and welcoming. The water was the only old friend she had ever known. It swallowed her into its loving arms, fusing her legs together into the tail that no longer was bound by rope. All around her she was able to see the minute details that Mr. Stark had put so much thought and care into. The walls were black with specs; if she relaxed enough it turned into the depths of the Atlantic. She swam and sang, pumping her tail, the melody an airy, non-transical tune. It was peace. It was ideal. She had finally reached the happiness that she used to be so certain that she could never feel. There was only one factor missing.

Looking up, she saw Peter leaning over the edge of the water, searching for her. For a moment she was taken back to the first time she had ever seen his face, curious and dumbstruck, unsure of the secrets the sea had to offer. There was a warm feeling in her heart as she pondered the memory.

There was a word that she had come across in a novel Miss Gomez had forced her to read. The word had stuck with her, and she had longed to feel every essence of it. After reading it repeatedly, the sound of it echoing in her mind, she had realized she never would be able to. The only way would be if she were to swim again as freely as she had been able to in the ocean. She had asked PET about the word so many times, that the AI had set it as her alarm. She woke up to the definition every morning, wishing she could immerse herself in it, but no matter how many times she reached out, she fell short.

Yet there she was, swimming freely. She was content.

And the word?

Serenity.

_end of Act 1_

**_the siren will return january 22 in Act 2: Tranquility_ **


	21. anouncement

The second installment to the siren, Tranquility, has been posted!


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